


Magpie Down

by lindam2254



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Other, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindam2254/pseuds/lindam2254
Summary: SHIELD has sent Captain America and his team of Agents to recover data stolen from SHIELD by a target only known to the organisation as "the Trafficker". But in addition to being first ever mission led by Steve, the operation that was supposed to be a common recovery mission doesn't turn out quite like an every day assignment in the long run.
Relationships: Avengers Team/Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers & Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. The Trafficker

**Author's Note:**

> This is by every means a somewhat edited draft, but which still is in need of work. But after floating around ideas in my head and ending up typing this prologue of my planned Marvel fic, I thought to publish this, so that I could get some feedback since I’m a newbie in this fandom...(what, only took me ten years?)  
> I’ve never written anything regarding to Marvel before, and became more of a fan only about a year or so, so the introduced characters in this might feel quite OOC, so I'm doing the best I can at the moment...  
> Since this is just a random piece of writing at the present, I’m not obligating you to comment, but would love to hear what you think!  
> Happy New Year!
> 
> Italics = Speech through earpiece/other device  
> bold = foreign language

**\- South Africa -**

**Nightclub Ion, 2317 Hours**

_”Everyone in position?”_

”Yes.”

_“Aye aye, Cap. Ready for action...If we’d even get any.”_

After a few more affirmative responses from the rest of the Agents through his earpiece Steve looked over to the entrance of the building. Outside appearing like a common local restaurant with mainly tourists sitting in tables eating, but which only worked as a false front for an underground club…Run by Simeon Monroe, South-African arms dealer and an apparent big shot in the ongoing gang war on the area, supplying both sides with his merchandise while supporting the government to eradicate these gangs by providing their police force with the exact same contraband weapons… According to the information gathered by S.H.I.E.L.D this club to have been established solely for the purpose for Monroe to run his arms deals in secret with all manner of clients…some more respectable than others.

 _“What is Monroe doing?”_ Steve asked, wanting an update for the past hour of mere waiting and not much happening, not getting informed of much else either now as heard Agent Callagher smack her tongue. Clear distaste in her voice.

_“Same as he’s done ever since entering. Proving why men like him should be shot and left for dead.”_

_“Don’t let yourself be tempted, Agent”_ , Clint mused, holding back a laugh, Steve also smiling a little at Agent Callagher’s acrid tone. _“I’m sure you could take on the whole division of his bodyguards, but that would only spook our target away.”_

 _“I can’t help it. You should just see him”_ , agent Callagher replied as cast another look over to Monroe, watching him demean yet another young woman swarming that club with a single passing stare while having another woman in his very lap. _“Pigs don’t fly, but I sure as hell would wish to teach him.”_

 _”Alright, let’s focus…Have a clear view of the club area?”_ Steve inquired. Now talking to all of the infiltrated Agents keeping watch of Monroe and his goons.

_“Positive.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“All eyes and ears here, Captain. All exits secured.”_

Steve frowned, wondering about the time as his eyes scanned the faces of the people he saw walk nearby the restaurant, some entering. The pounding echo of the song playing in the club leaking through the still open line, and still very unaccustomed to the music of modern era the man raised his eyebrows at the mere racket playing in his ear as strove to hear through the rumbling beats. _“Any sign of the target?”_

 _“Negative. But is it even a wonder considering the meeting was set to go down at midnight?”_ Agent Keller remarked, Steve raising his eyebrows again.

_“It never hurts to play safe. For all we know the time given to us could’ve been just bogus information meant to throw off any outer parties from getting involved.”_

_“Like us”,_ Clint confirmed, flashing himself half a grin as crouched down to get a better view of all the windows at the back of the building…where the club resided a couple of storeys below the ground floor.

_“But the source confirmed the Trafficker to come here tonight. That’s certain.”_

_“Nothing is certain in missions, Agent. Training 101”,_ Natasha corrected curtly _,_ her fingers dancing rapidly on the screen as she fed continuous coordinates to the surveillance system. Mapping the area down to the tiniest heat signature found within a mile before zeroing the view solely to the vicinity of the target building. _“You’ll never know what you could be thrown at while on the job.”_

 _“Leave the new kid alone, Nat. He’s just excited to have his training wheels off…Don’t you remember when it was you going on your first mission for S.H.I.E.L.D and it was_ me _who had to remind you of protocol because you were too young and enthusiastic to go by the book?”_ Clint teased, Natasha rolling her eyes at him and replying in grave disbelief, until they heard Steve clear his throat to silence their out of context piquing.

_“And just from whom do you think I picked that up…?”_

_“Anyways, all’s set. Once the target shows themselves we are ready to act, Captain”,_ Keller cut in, momentarily silenced due to the banter of his teammates, once again focused on to the operation thanks to their team leader.

 _“Outside and inside. We’re all good, Steve”,_ Natasha agreed, smiling _. “We have every inch of this place watched. No one leaves without us knowing it.”_

Steve nodded to himself, taking a pause as let his eyes skim over the spanning view of the streets crisscrossing behind the club from his perched position on top of the opposite building. Indeed making it easy for him to spot anyone trying to slip out of the club.

_“Just remember to never let your eyes off the target once they meet with Monroe. The Trafficker is said to be a slippery one to catch, especially on the act. There’s a reason why S.H.I.E.L.D hasn’t gotten near a single whiff of their activities in all these years while crossing paths with them, and we know not much of what they’re capable of, which makes their capture even more difficult. And Romanoff…Don’t call me Steve.”_

_“Why? Captain sounds so formal…Wouldn’t you like to be more casual taken that we are probably your only friends?”_ Natasha purred, intentionally using a tone that would annoy Steve, but was robbed of a chance to continue as Clint interrupted.

 _“Hey guys…Focus”,_ he stated, his sarcasm causing Steve to simply shake his head and not respond to Natasha’s continued tease this time focused on him. Returning his own attention back to monitoring the building.

_“So about this Trafficker…Since we know squat about them and their abilities aside for them being one of the bad guys, that’s why Fury sent us all here to book ‘em instead of handling this as a normal pickup mission?…Did they really need to send a tactical team for one man?”_

_“If cops were enough to take care of them they wouldn’t have gotten their hands on any S.H.I.E.L.D’s dirty laundry in the first place”,_ Natasha answered, quirking a remarkable eyebrow. _“Which brings in us.”_

_“Is the target enhanced?” Harvey, one of the senior Agents asked, including himself into the conversation for the first time._

_“Apparently not, but just like Cap said…very hard to get an audience with”,_ Natasha informed.

 _“Which makes them dangerous”,_ Steve agreed, more serious now _. “We have to catch this guy. We can’t let them slip away again to go on stirring up more trouble.”_

 _“And this is our only chance for that. We need to recover the data from the Trafficker before it ends up to the wrong hands._ That _would stir up more trouble for S.H.I.E.L.D than Fury would forgive”,_ Natasha said _. “You don’t want to be the one to give him the report if we fuck this up.”_

 _“You mean to say that if sold to Monroe, they wouldn’t be in bad enough hands already?”_ Agent Callagher mused, leveling a fleeting glare at the arms dealer over her drink as pretended to be into the club anthem causing her eardrums to bleed.

 _“He has no real use for the information himself aside for profit. Like the Trafficker he’s just a middleman. I think he agreed to this transaction only pass on the data about S.H.I.E.L.D to someone else who’s really craving to get to the bottom of our secrets, which the Trafficker knew while choosing the buyer”_ , Clint said, running a hand across the body of his bow _. “After all, the Trafficker needed to sell the data as quickly as possible. No matter where they got the merchandise, it was too hot of a potato to hold onto too long or either S.H.I.E.L.D or some other mean ass corporation would get a scent of it and come at them the big guns out.”_

 _“And what are we then?”_ Keller questioned, amused, Clint smirking at his comment.

_“The vanguard and the cavalry in one. More cost efficient that way.”_

_“Do we know anything more about their meeting?”_ Callagher asked, her like all of the other Agents’ voice almost getting drowned under the clamor of the lively club.

 _“No. Just that it should happen here around midnight. The Trafficker might not be perfect in always keeping things under wraps for our informants to find about it, but they’re careful enough not to send us a direct invitation to tell us straight when and where”_ , Natasha replied, tapping her fingertips against her thigh as observed the people inside the building. Not always making much sense of anything she saw however thanks to the great number of bodies emanating heat within the enclosed space, but could pinpoint the location of their operatives as well as Monroe’s party sitting separately at the other side of the club.

_“Which is why all we need to do is keep an eye on that arms dealer and wait.”_

_“Then we wait”,_ Steve confirmed, despite of the determination in his voice starting to feel unsure. Would the Trafficker truly make an appearance if it had been that easy for S.H.I.E.L.D to uncover their plans of selling the documents? The data (stolen during a mission in Brazil, the real thieves with the use of some revolusionary tech managing to use S.H.I.E.L.D’s own equipment to hack into the mainframe of their headquarters, downloading a lot of miscellaneous data from their logistics and personnel information to basic operations…Exactly what they weren’t sure of…) needed to be recovered tonight, but for someone who’d mostly kept their activities to themselves without risking of getting attained by S.H.I.E.L.D due to making themselves known, Steve found it very strange for them to have been able to set up an operation of their own in capturing the target without the Trafficker actually knowing that the word of their meeting with Monroe had gotten out.

 _“Well, it certainly would help if we even had a picture of the guy”_ , Clint mused as strode across the rooftop, calculating different routes of entry if required.

 _“Or her. The target could be a woman. You never know”_ , Natasha offered, tipping her head in concur of that thought as she was very aware of what a resourceful woman could do to avoid ending up within the radar of world cops like S.H.I.E.L.D.

 _“As exciting change to the usual criminals we have to play tag with as that would be, am I the only one who isn’t all that into being stuck here in wait of this common robber?”_ Tony interjected suddenly, voice thick with sarcasm, others finding it surprising for him to speak after remaining silent for the current endurance of the mission.

 _“No one asked you, Tony. Especially Fury. He never does that”_ , Clint answered.

 _“What? Missed one of those fancy fundraisers in order to come here?”_ Natasha queried, not all that taken aback however to hear Tony to have something to complain about. He always did whenever Fury would occasionally bring him in for a mission that was considered too important to be given to regular Agents.

_“Just saying, I’ve got places to be. While you kids are afraid of getting spanked by our dear Cyclops in black for letting the evildoer run, if not for that Robin Hood of the underworld we’ve so patiently waited for, I’d be savoring in delectable drinks and easily more favorable company.”_

_“Not every common thief is in possession of sensitive information about the most clandestine security organization of the world…and could very possibly help the greatest evildoers of this planet to put both you and all your colleagues out of business, Stark. Are you saying that we should just let the Trafficker sell the data and go home, potentially risking thousands if not more lives?”_ Steve stated more grimly, not appreciating Tony’s tone as often was, not to mention his self-indulgent way of getting his point across. Tony responding with an innocent flair to his delivery next as went for indifference, which didn’t sit well with Steve either. Never did, as whenever he’d been teamed up with Stark on these missions he’d more and more come to consider him as a man who took nothing seriously, if it weren’t his continuous need to puff his ego.

_“Whatever you mean? Even if we wouldn’t be soon able to get this little band of ours together anymore, I wouldn’t dwell on it. And no, Captain. I’m just saying they could’ve chosen a more convenient time to do so.”_

_“Says the millionaire with cash to spear…You do know that to some of us this is the only pastime to indulge in, not to mention the means to support ourselves without any extra millions lying around?”_ Clint remarked as took out his bow again, testing it, imagining to be pointing one of his exploding arrows at the eaves of the restaurant before moved his weapon away once a little girl stepped out of the establishment with her parents.

 _“I would’ve expected you to say something along the lines of ´_ Fury should’ve just sent me´ _”_ , Natasha said to Tony, his purposefully bad impression of him meant as a taunt for the man, but as came natural to him he challenged her words by reacting the opposite way from the desired; instead of allowing himself to be teased making the shift in conversation all about him.

 _“You’re right. As fun as it always is to hang out with you guys, I could’ve taken care of this in a jiffy and been back at Stark tower sipping on champagne quicker than to some it took to even plan this stakeout. You are all still in your training wheels compared to me…Even you Captain”_ , Tony agreed, however rousing less amusement in others than in himself, Steve holding himself back from granting him with an answer while Clint was the only one to let out a chuckle.

_“There he is. Tony we all love. This stakeout never would’ve been the same without you.”_

_“Stark, your status?”_ Steve asked, cutting in before the Iron Man could continue to sidetrack them with more of his self-serving comments. Before Tony could answer Steve spotting movement high above his head and one glance upward told him the man to have always been close, as agreed. Soaring just high enough not to be spotted by anyone other than those with the knowledge of his presence.

_“Eyes up, Cap. Just don’t ask is it a plane, or a bird, as it’s just me, checking in.”_

Steve sighed, naturally Tony’s reference going past his current knowledge of pop-culture, so once more instead of engaging into his cheekiness he controlled himself and fixated his eyes back to the club building. _“Just be ready.”_

The team spent a moment in silence, Agents inside Ion trying to appear inconspicuous while kept a watchful eye of the dancing mass crowding the dance floor. Eyeing at the people by the bar and the sides of the large, singular room before one by one left their current positions and switched viewpoints, keeping close to the exists but changing places often enough not to be pinpointed by the yet to arrive target or Monroe’s men who weren’t as laid back as their boss…Their keen attention like the Agents’ focused on the people inside the club, in clear expectation of the person arranged to meet with Monroe, although Steve’s team didn’t know whether the man actually had met with the Trafficker before or was as clueless of their identity as were they. Simply waiting for them to arrive, and the closer the time of the meeting grew the more attentive Monroe’s bodyguards became, forcing the Agents to use all their ability to blend in with the crowd.

 _“Does the Trafficker usually work alone, or should we be worried about a team of their own to storm in should we suddenly make a move to apprehend them?”_ Keller asked, pretending to take a sip of his beer while suavely concealed behind a pillar. Hiding himself from one of Monroe’s men currently sweeping the space with his gaze, almost bumping into a beautiful blonde, who simply returned his apologetic smile when he gently rejected the drunken, familiar arm instantly stretched towards him to pull him into a dance.

 _“Based on what we know, the target usually seems to do business alone without any significant backup. They could have someone working with them to secure a clean getaway should things go wrong, but it’s not to be expected. After all it’s easier to just go in and out without a need to worry about having your teammates blow your cover”_ , Natasha answered, them all then hearing Clint to snort in disbelief.

_“Didn’t you say S.H.I.E.L.D knows practically nothing about them? So that should include his known associates and crewmembers, should they have any.”_

_“That little S.H.I.E.L.D has learned about their pattern along the years supports that the Trafficker prefers to handle their transactions alone. Then again, I imagine they usually set up their meetings while not stalked by uninvited S.H.I.E.L.D Agents.”_

_“Romanoff, can you detect anyone in the vicinity of the building besides us?”_ Steve asked, his eyes once more traveling across the surrounding rooftops in case of locating any possible signs of hiding operatives that weren’t their own...But if there were any they were good by blending in the very air, as he saw no one.

_“I cannot spot anyone suspicious. Just some passing civilians and stray cats. The trafficker is alone…Unless the cats are each carrying Glock 17’s.”_

_“And you, Stark?”_

_“Although I usually don’t, I agree with Agent Romanoff. The area is clean. The only shady characters nearby are the couple of gang members engaged in a mugging a couple of streets away, but they would be no interest to us. But if anyone I’d say you look more suspicious while perched on top of those buildings like a couple of pigeons with Agent Barton, Captain. Especially from this angle.”_

_“Not all of us can mind our own business in the air before swooping directly into the action”,_ Steve answered, hearing Tony to release an amused utterance.

_“Sadly, we can’t all be me.”_

_“Regrettably.”_

_“Hold up…Someone’s moving in towards Monroe. Across the dance floor”_ , Agent Callagher spoke up then, everyone quieting down while waiting for her to verify what she’d just said.

 _“Is it the target?”_ Steve questioned, muscles tensing for the anticipation of action. Brief silence befalling as Callagher spent a moment observing the woman who had appeared from amongst the people out of the blue and was currently making her way in between the dancers, body swaying according to the rhythmic beats of the music while still casually not getting caught up by the multitude. Closing in on the Agent as squeezed between a group of friends dancing in a ring, Callagher giving her short denim shorts and a sequenced top an appraisal look once she strode past her in her heeled shoes, in her heavy make-up and scanty attire looking like a normal clubber to her trained eye as the Agent then continued walking. Distancing herself from the arrived brunette with a few more steps before placed herself beside the counter of the bar, letting her eyes wander within the room before settling onto the woman again, watching her to head straight towards Monroe’s entourage…who now spotted her too.

 _“Agent?”_ Steve’s voice called through the earpiece, impatient edge to it and Callagher at first bypassed it as kept on observing what was happening at the other side of the room, watching the young woman to give the alerted bodyguards of Monroe a surprised look once they immediately came to greet her, their hands flying to their holstered guns…Halting by the stairs leading to the secluded area of the club where the man was having his own more private party, the arms dealer not taking but a second to pinpoint her, giving her a curious look after shifting his gaze from the waitress his attention had been focused on for the past ten minutes. Studying her, Callagher watching the woman to flip her hair seductively away from her shoulder before inclined her head at the man, no doubt asking permission to approach, her hand rising to play with the ornamental crucifix around her neck. No different from any other girl Callagher had observed to go seek the club owner’s favor that night in hopes of receiving some VIP treatment.

_“Wait…”_

_“Callagher, is it the target? Should we engage?”_ now Clint asked in turn,

 _“No, it’s just some woman coming into Monroe. False alarm”_ , Keller verified with a sigh, the other members of the team once more relaxing at the sound of to be still forced to continue waiting. Steve, who’d already risen from his hunched position sitting back down with a sigh of his own, this time around directing his eyes up to the night sky, admiring the stars.

 _“Honestly, the target should hurry the hell up. I‘m tired of waiting, and I don’t know how much longer can we linger here without Monroe’s men spotting us and getting suspicious”_ , Agent Moore mused, giving his surroundings a swift look-over before escaped the unwanted attention of a group of young women he’d spotted to stare at him for a while now, disappearing their occasional glances into the crowd before any of them decided to come over to him provoked by their friends.

 _“Clearly you’ve never been sent to a basic surveillance mission_ ”, Harvey stated, Moore’s following response infused with aversion.

_“Actually, I transferred here from the surveillance team…Only to find that these tactical missions aren’t all that different.”_

_“Sure they are…If you only choose the right missions”_ , Tony cut in, earning himself a scoff from Natasha.

 _“Just like you said, we everyday operatives aren’t like you, Tony. We don’t get to_ choose _our missions.”_

_“And instead go where Simon says? Well that’s accurate. Fury’s the one holding the reins at all times…Not to at all downplay your authority, Captain, on your first mission in charge. ”_

_“Still…I’d give anything if I didn’t have to spend another minute in here…I feel like my head is going to explode in this noise. How can anyone stand this?”_ Callagher murmured, shifting her eyes over to Monroe to see him to have by then abandoned the waitress to simply stand aside, jilted while the man was clearly enthralled by what he’d discovered to have come to claim his attention. The man ogling the sultry brunette a captivated smirk on his lips once he laid witness to her coquetry, hence responding when the woman smiled at him and came closer, causing Monroe to take upon the given permission and place his hands directly on her waist. _“This is why I don’t go out clubbing. You lose not only your hearing but all your money in overpriced drinks.”_

 _“Just a little while longer and the target should turn up. Hang on there, Agent_ ”, Harvey reassured, hint of laughter in his voice, causing Callagher to turn up her nose once she saw the woman to begin to make the best of the acquired fascination of Monroe’s. Starting to dance for him, knowing exactly what she was doing to make the man fall for a single grind of her backside as it didn’t take long for him to simply sit back into the couch behind him…To admire the view of sensual curves rocking in front of him subtly, just enough to keep him focused before she was done objectifying herself to the beat of the new song that had begun to play. Ending up sitting in Monroe’s lap crosslegged after the man had mellowed by her performance and went beyond his capability to control himself, allowing her to slip right into his personal space. Callagher observing how the woman eyed at Monroe curiously, raising a hand to smooth the section of bare skin showing from under the unbuttoned collar of his shirt before moved to play with the lapels, flirting away, not that the man actually minded by the beyond intrigued look on his face.

“ _Then you are welcome to come over and babysit this douche bag, Harvey.”_

Agent Keller moved closer to Monroe, slowly inching closer to not to stand out to his bodyguards, watching the woman with the arms dealer. Witnessing pretty much what all the other Agents did, her to throw herself at the man who but indulged in her seduction. Placing a familiar hand on her knee, the flickering, colored spotlights making it hard for him to try to find out what they were saying to one another by reading lips, as there was no way for him to hear a single thing over the clamor of the club even from such a small distance _._ It however being obvious the man to be pleased about whatever it was the woman said to him next as Keller saw him lean close to her face after examining her, smiling, whispering in her ear.

 **“Did you bring it?”** Monroe queried, giving the palm of his business partner a jovial look as it once more pushed under his shirt, as she made it seem to teasingly draw circles on his dark skin.

 **“You know the terms we agreed on. If you want it, you first have to give me what I’m owed”** , the Trafficker said, inclining her head remarkably as purposefully missed brushing the man’s lips with hers to appear promiscuous. Her fingers retreating from fumbling with the silky material of Monroe’s shirt until entangling with the cross around her neck, her tugging at it softly so that she needed not words to continue. Monroe glancing down at it in realization, nodding, her other hand seizing his once it made the mistake of taking their little farce too far, traveling too downward around her thigh, conjuring up a laugh from the man. They may have been putting on a show to hide the true nature of this encounter, but she still didn’t like him stretching the limits of this charade…even by a mere touch.

 **“Yes, you have been working hard”** , Monroe admitted, his smile widening as he then retreated a little, eyeing at the Trafficker more closely until with a taken aback raise of an eyebrow beckoned to one of his men subtly. **“But although you undoubtedly deserve an appropriate reward, I must say…I’m surprised. I was waiting for a notorious individual, a mercenary or possibly a rogue Agent on a run from their employer taken all the mystery surrounding this transaction…but you weren’t at all what I expected.”**

 **“Then your expectations were low…As if my gender would truly shock you nor matter to you”** , the Trafficker stated, narrowing her eyes. Monroe grinning at her response. **“Besides you know nothing more of me than anyone else does to even have expectations.”**

**“True. Instead of a fact that a delicate girl like you managing to steal something so restricted from S.H.I.E.L.D no less, I’m more impressed of you speaking my language… Which makes me not disappointed by this turn of events.”**

**“There’s only one kind of language needed in trading, Mr. Monroe”** , the Trafficker mused, gazing back at the man in expectation of her own. The surrounding Agents occasionally giving them glances seeing her then to lift her wrist towards him, to them utterly casually as if she would’ve been showing off that imposing bracelet to him before softly running a finger across his jawline, but to Monroe there was no doubt of what was the significance behind that single motion. The man looking at the woman in amusement, him extending his own hand to receive a phone from the bodyguard he’d called over a moment ago. Agents Callagher and Keller happening to take notice how he then dropped his eyes from the woman, spending a few seconds using the device, until then handing it over to her…As if asking her to type in her number…Which she did.

 _“It’s almost midnight. How long do you think we still have to wait?”_ Agent Harvey asked, ending the radio silence. Callagher responding with a sigh of her own.

_“Long enough to see that poor girl hand herself right over to Monroe…What do they see in him, honestly?”_

_“Money, danger…fleeting thrill of becoming a gangster’s trophy wife for the night”,_ Moore mused, hardly amusing anyone.

 _“We’re here to work, Callagher, not to evaluate Monroe’s love life”,_ Keller remarked in turn, sending a sharper glance over the dance floor at his fellow Agent. _“Yeah, he’s a certified prick, but that’s not why we’re here...Well, not completely.”_

 _“Wait…what are they doing?”_ Harvey asked suddenly, taking a better look of Monroe and the woman himself, waking the others’ interest. _“What is that in her hand?”_

 _“It’s a phone. She’s giving him her number”,_ Moore replied, stating the obvious and letting it hear in his voice.

 _“But would he really engage in open dalliance with a woman just before meeting with an important contact? Seems unlikely”,_ Harvey commented, causing the team to admit that to be a valid point, but as had been certified by their observations, there was nothing unclear about the nature of acquaintance between Monroe and that woman…He was simply doing his usual thing of trying to score with her, and the feeling was most mutual.

 _“Does he really strike you as a guy who wouldn’t use his most active body part to do the thinking for him? Come on Harvey, he’s clearly a slave of his urges, and she isn’t at all shy to make him act any differently”,_ Moore stated, now also looking at the arms dealer significantly before peered over to the location Harvey was standing and saw him shrug.

_“I still can’t believe him to be actually that laid back.”_

_“Believe it. We can all see what’s going on there, and it’s nothing we haven’t born witness this whole evening.”_

The trafficker gazed upon the phone in her hand, her eyes skimming over the screen and seeing the electronic remittance it displayed, after checking the mentioned amount prepared for transfer and initiating the process with a few taps turning her gaze over to her bracelet and shifted her wrist. To see a small light to come on, the built in device within the accessory releasing a hardly audible beep as it made contact with the phone. In a manner of seconds the money transferring from the offshore account to hers, the Trafficker following the process of the transfer with keen eye until another corroborative beep and the confirmation on the phone’s screen signaled the money to have been transmitted in full.

 **“As agreed. 10 million, euros, direct transfer. And one million extra for quick delivery and as a sign of my appreciation”** , Monroe said, the Trafficker frowning at him a little quizzically, until saw the man to tilt his head at the sight of her wonder as she came to question exactly what had he meant to appreciate while ogling her in such way…Making it hard to decipher whether he actually meant to eye at her like a paid escort or not this time around or was further playing into his on the spot assumed role of a seduced man. **“It is a compliment. And an incentive for you to keep me in mind whenever you’ll come in possession of unique ware such as this again…It’s rare to come upon straightforward and honest business partners these days with great goods.”**

 **“Keep on the double entendre and I might be incited to take my business elsewhere”** , the Trafficker replied, flashing him a smile that to others close by seemed sweet, but which to the man in front of her was but serious, added to the used tone laced with friendly threat. Monroe laughing at her a little until followed her then to take hold of her necklace, locking gazes with her as she next removed the cross and leant forward, threading it around his neck. Her hand lastly pressing onto the decorative pendant after pulling him closer, once more denying him a kiss on the lips on the last minute. **“But as you said…I deliver what I’ve promised.”**

 **“Most appreciated”** , Monroe answered, his voice pure honey, and the Trafficker could see the complacency to be written all over his face once he squeezed his own hand around the imposing dangle. Now fully realizing its worth and the power it now brought to him while finally in possession of it and its secrets. **“So as requested, I’ll save you from further platitudes I’d usually give an attractive woman such as you…and offer you a toast. For us to part in good terms.”**

Despite of his words the Trafficker hold back a palled raise of eyebrows as received a glass of champagne from Monroe without a word, with another significant motion of his hand one of his men presenting him with two for them to toast. The undercover Agents still watching them as they brought the glasses together, taking their respective sips while even more suspicious Agent Harvey spoke up again. Finding the situation now too odd for him to just let his gut feeling slide, something about that woman and the air about her while she was with Monroe waking his suspicions.

_“There’s really something going on. I feel it.”_

_“What would that be? The target is still fifteen minutes to show, if the info given by the informants is correct. Plenty of time for Monroe to have his fun and chase the woman away before the Trafficker arrives”_ , Moore mused, clearly not sharing his colleague’s concerns, but upon to have kept a closer watch of Monroe for the past few minutes also Keller and Callagher had noticed something to be amiss. The woman’s act of removing her necklace and giving it to Monroe seeming strange to them, and after a fleeting consideration whether to trust their own instincts against of what they were beholding with their own eyes decided to make their own doubts known.

 _“It is odd. The woman took off her necklace and gave it to Monroe”_ , Keller told through his earpiece, frowning once he and the others then saw the woman to place her hand on Monroe’s shoulder. The man abruptly gasping and accidentally spilling his own drink, the champagne splashing all over the woman which caused her to finally rise from his lap with s slight shove given to his chest. Monroe following her cue as dumped his glass onto the table, hurrying to apologize to the appalled woman whose mood had completely changed by then. Her eyeing at the man biliously until rejected the helping hand of the man, exchanging a couple of more heated words with him until was directed to the direction of the ladies room. Her leaving Monroe’s private lounge with a peeved shake of her head, pushing past the bodyguards and crossing the dance floor with heated strides, clearly appearing like a woman scorned. Keller following her disappear from his viewpoint and get lost to the flashing lights and multitude of dancers after passing her in vivid outrage. _“Agent Harvey’s right. Something’s up.”_

 _“What’s so odd about that? Don’t women give their jewelry to men they like?”_ Agent Moore retorted, now Natasha finally cutting in into the conversation as her and the others thought over Harvey and Keller’s words. Also finding them more concerning than Moore did.

 _“Not to a casual hook-up”_ , Natasha pointed out, frowning.

 _“What is she doing now?”_ Steve questioned, suddenly also curious about this woman.

 _“Nothing. She left. Monroe spilled champagne all over her, so she told him off and scrammed”_ , Callagher answered, surprising Steve, who then turned more earnest. Having a bad feeling about that.

_“She left?”_

_“Yes. But wait…”_ Callagher said, cutting herself off as then happened to take a better look at Monroe. Instead of bothered or angered by the previous incident appearing but very pleased with himself, smug smile on his lips as beckoned one of his men over who was now carrying a tablet. Saying something to him while played with the endowed cross, as his goon begun to prepare something with the device his cheerful mood however turning somber in an instant when the Agents spied him to cast confused eyes down at the cross in his fingers, lifting it quizzically. Even in the dark and the spotlights half blinding her Agent Callagher then gaining a better view of the necklace herself as it dangled from the arms dealer’s hand, her eyes widening as in grave realization she laid witness to the same that which then caused Monroe’s anger to flare. The lower half of the cross appearing to be missing, Keller apparently seeing the same thing as it was him who in the following moment brought it to the whole team’s attention. His voice laced with outrage as the previous scene now played in his mind all over in a whole different light, the missing part of the pendant seeming to be a part of a device she’d used to store the merchandise.

_“It was her. The woman who was with Monroe is the target. She’s the Trafficker!”_

_“And the data she sold him…She stole it back. She left with the data!”_ Callagher confirmed, rushing into action as she and the other Agents eyed at Monroe who was barking orders at his bodyguards while flung the remains of the necklace on the floor. Undoubtedly ordering them to find the woman and bring her back to him, his roaring voice not being heard by the patrons of the club who were too focused on partying the night away, but the Agents quickly spread out. Hurrying to search the crowd, trying to find the woman who just a moment before had still been in the room, but who by then had been lost to each of them. Agent Callagher racing to the direction she’d seen Monroe to throw the remnants of the pendant.

 _“Find her. If she leaves the club with the data, she can go ahead and try to sell the information to someone else”_ , Steve ordered, jumping to his feet as immediately his eyes started to roam about the building, in instinctive expectation of seeing the said woman exit from one of the windows or slip out of one of the back doors. However not seeing anyone as didn’t Clint, them taking this as a good sign.

 _“She’s still inside. No one has left the building”_ , Clint mused, also keeping a close eye on all he deemed to be able to be utilized as exists as noticed Steve to abandon his post on top of his viewpoint, swinging himself onto the fire-escape to make a quick descent to the street level. _“Are you picking up a trace of her, Nat?”_

 _“No. If I had been watching her the moment she bailed I could’ve seen where she went”_ , Natasha answered tensely, feverishly going through the heat signatures while trying to locate the only one she needed to find or anyone even remotely suspicious. Quickly however only releasing a frustrated utterance as it was all for naught. The woman to have disappeared, and there was no way for her to find her. _“You have to catch up to her. I can’t unearth her now that she’s vanished from my radar.”_

 _“Where did she go? Did anyone see?”_ Moore asked, thronging through the sweaty mob, the others doing the same as frantically scanned the faces of the people. In vain, as the woman had made a swift exit right after receiving her payment and reclaiming the data from Monroe. Only a stupid person dawdling after practically stealing not only a fortune, but the very thing they’d pretended to sell from the short-tempered arms dealer.

 _“Negative. She just took off and vanished into the crowd. I couldn’t see where”_ , Harvey replied, also struggling to deduce the current location of the Trafficker. “ _Monroe just realized he was ripped off and he sent his cronies after her as well.”_

 _“She couldn’t have just left. All exists were watched by us. It’s not possible for her to have stepped outside without any of us seeing her leave_ ”, Callagher remarked, helping Keller then to think of something as searched the floor, after a while spotting the glimmer of the necklace on the floor among the stomping feet.

 _“Just find her, now, before Monroe does”_ , Clint urged. _“We’ll be lobsters in beyond scalding water if she walks…And Fury will feast upon us.”_

 _“She won’t. Because she never left. She’s in the bathroom!”_ Keller exclaimed, after realizing the target to have not been able to flee the room fathoming her to have simply hid somewhere. After recalling the direction he’d last seen her head to and understanding the actual facilities to be located there as well, immediately charging towards the direction of the restrooms. Others following in tow aside for Callagher, although his colleagues weren’t as convinced of that as he was.

 _“Why would she hide when she must’ve known to have mere minutes until Monroe would check the authenticity of the merchandise and realize to have been swindled? She wouldn’t be so stupid”_ , Moore argued, however ending up proved wrong as Keller was indeed the first one to sprint over to the women’s bathroom. However not finding anything remarkable until after scouring all the stalls and scaring several women by kicking in the doors before ending up rushing inside men’s bathroom but a single minute later, his eyes instantly fixating onto the sole occupant of the room who was standing in front of the mirror. Putting on make-up, familiar looking clothes all bundled up on the sink countertop next to his wig and rest of the numerous, the man dressed in women’s underwear and the same denim shorts the Agent had seen before turning to face him with a questionable raise of a painted brow.

 _“She would if it was all part of her plan…She changed clothes_ ”, Keller said, understanding silence descending on all sides of the open line as Keller then faced the man, addressing him while taking hold of the sequenced top the Trafficker had been wearing just now.

“Where is the woman who gave you these clothes?” Keller asked him, locking earnest gazes with him, where the man only looked him over. Not caring for his urgent tone and simply concentrated on finishing putting on mascara.

“They’re mine. She pulled me aside earlier this evening and paid me to borrow my clothes and stay here with her own stuff until she would come back and give me something. That bitch spilled champagne all over my Chanel…”

“Stuff? What was it that she asked you to keep for her?”

“A bag.”

“What was in the bag?”

“Some clothes, dark ones. A cellphone, taser, and some weird sticks made of plastic…And a gun. The bag is over there, she dumped it the minute she bailed”, the man answered with his broken English, pointing towards the corner of the bathroom were indeed laid a black duffel bag, right next to the pair of heels apparently borrowed from this man. Keller swooping down to perform a swift inspection over it, but although rummaged the bag through found nothing in it to reveal to whom it belonged, dropping it and returning his attention back to the man who’d been hired to become their target’s accomplice.

“What did she give you?”

“I don’t know…Some weird thing she told me to give to the cops once they’d arrive”, the man replied, causing Keller to frown at the mention of that and so did several others who overheard the man’s reply through Keller’s earpiece concerning the mention of police. Keller watching how the man then extended a hand to point at his make-up pouch, something sticking out of it, and once Agent Keller pulled it out he realized it to be the missing piece of the cross. Only that it was revealed to be a flash drive.

“Why?” Keller questioned, gaining a shrug from the man.

“Dunno. She just told me to give it to them the moment they get here.”

 _“Captain, the Trafficker left the data. I’m holding it right now. What she gave to Monroe was actually flash drive”_ , Keller said then, turning on his heels as exited the bathroom. Digging out a transporter before pushed the drive into the port, initiating the data transmission.

 _“Affirmative. The necklace she gave him was used to disguise the drive and perform the exchange unnoticed”,_ Callagher added, looking down at the pendant she’d retrieved as finally joined his comrades, heading out of the club space. _“Until she pilfered the drive when he wasn’t looking. She probably had him spill the drink all over her on purpose to swipe it.”_

 _“Going after her. Sending over the data of the drive now”,_ Keller continued, returning the device into his pocket after waiting for a few seconds for the data to be sent to Natasha.

 _“Why would she steal the data in the first place, if she then would only steal it the second time before eventually dumping the drive in the hands of a random guy she happened to meet at the club?”_ Moore wondered, Harvey continuing.

_“Was it a mere chance? Was he clean?”_

_“No, as she’d planned out her escape to a tee beforehand. But the guy’s clean, just a civilian she took advantage of to slip away”,_ Keller responded. _“But we got to hurry. The Trafficker is several minutes ahead of us and can escape any moment now that we abandoned our stations in search of her.”_

 _“We’ll get her. Stark, Barton, be ready to intercept her should she exit the building before our team gets hold of her”,_ Steve said, descending two floors during that single sentence until was brought to a halt mid-step by Natasha’s following remark.

_“This can’t be right…”_

Everyone went silent at the sound of her baffled voice, the amount of astonishment and puzzlement in her delivery causing all team to pause, and Steve brought a hand to his earpiece. Fazed by her wonder.

_“Romanoff? What is it?”_

_“The contents on the drive…It’s not the data we’re after. The drive contains tons of pictures and documents concerning Monroe, collected proof of him engaging in illegal arms deals with several terrorist groups and infusing a local gang war by selling weapons to both sides to keep the bloody scuffle going…This is basically a lawyer’s wet dream of nabbing the guy, all compiled in one package with a pretty bow tied around it.”_

_“What?”_ Steve asked, stunned, others sharing his bewilderment.

 _“So the drive she sold him and stole back…was a bogus one?”_ Moore surmised, surprised.

 _“Loaded with incriminating evidence that will land the sucker in slammer...Double cross at its finest”_ , Clint commented, making an approving pout. _“Maybe she’s not all that bad.”_

 _“It doesn’t matter. We still need the data, and she’s the only one who knows where it is!”_ Natasha reminded, however the following exclamation of Moore’s resuming everyone in action.

_“I got her! She’s at the second floor!”_

_“Don’t lose her. Engage if you have to, but don’t harm her”,_ Steve told him, jumping down to the lower level of the fire escape. Practically hearing Agent Moore to roll his eyes at his ever pacifistic approach, not to mention the impracticality of it which he made clear with his response, Steve’s following humorous response not amusing the Agent.

 _“And if she tries to hurt_ me _?”_

_“Then… Be a gentleman and let the lady have the first swing.”_

_“Sure. Since they always hit first and never ask questions.”_

_“Chivalry is not yet dead”,_ Clint interjected, Keller sighing at that.

_“We’ll see about that.”_

_“Keller? Keller, do you copy?”_ Natasha asked then, sudden disturbance in Agent Keller’s earpiece to have caused his previous response to be lost to the buzz of the unfunctioning device, after a couple of more tries calling him and re-establishing the connection not getting through to him. _“Anyone have eyes on Keller and the target?”_

_“Negative. On my way to the second floor.”_

_“Right behind you.”_

The Trafficker strapped her stun gun and other weapons to their respective holsters as marched across the empty corridor, zipping up her jacket while passed the unused rooms and forlorn portion of the building that had been closed off from the rest of the club. Making it easy for her to slip away while Monroe was busy turning the club upside down in search of her, until he and his men would calculate her escape route…by the time she was already long gone along with his money and dignity. Her flashing a quick smile at the thought of Monroe’s probable reaction to the revelation of to have been fooled so easily, her marveling at the man’s stupidity to have not checked the contents of the drive before paying, but she had selected Simeon Monroe for the very reason that he wasn’t known to be the most clever man…Dangerous yes, but the brains to counter that were quite lacking in him, which was why she hadn’t been the least worried about being so daring while dealing with him. And she had had no reason to be.

After sweeping the premises to check nobody to be around the Trafficker dug out the phone from her pocket, pressing the speed dial key and brought the device to her ear, waiting the sole two second for it to connect and the expected monotonous voice to greet her.

“Police is on the way. Ten minutes, tops.”

“You told them what I said?” she queried, hearing an indignant tsk sound from the other end.

“That he’s meeting with one of his gangster buddies…The detective couldn’t have jumped the gun faster after hearing that.”

“Monroe?” the Trafficker asked then, turning the corner before exited the corridor, crossing the sub-floor before entered to another corridor while heading towards the second flight of stairs a bit farther away in.

“His thugs are all over the yard, surrounding the building. He isn’t intending to let you leave.”

“He’s too late to stop me now…Besides soon he’ll have someone else to play with.”

“Why even bother wasting time in having him detained? You got his money.”

“Felt like it.”

“I got her! She’s at the second floor!”

The Trafficker swung around at the sound of the unexpected exclamation coming from behind her, her giving the man currently running towards her a quick confused glance. Noticing the man’s hand to drop from the level of his ear, his moving lips indicating him to be talking to someone, but the swift inspection made over him told her to not be one of Monroe’s goons as he next made a charge at her. Drawing a gun.

“Freeze!” Keller ordered, taking a stance as exchanged a stare with the Trafficker who was honestly stunned at his unexpected appearance, her eyeing at him in brief wonder until the voice from the phone cleared that passing confusion. “Put your hands up.”

“Monroe?”

“No”, she replied adamantly, suavely dropping the phone and slipping it into her pocket as after a moment Agent Keller approached her. The Trafficker reacting by retreating a step until made a quick twirl backwards, directing a high kick at Keller and hit him to his ear. Causing the surprised man to stumble and lose his advantage, unprepared for the agility of the woman, and hence lulled to the false sense of security that having a suspect at gunpoint brought to him as a remembrance from his Bureu days, the Trafficker got a jump on him. His earpiece releasing the expected crackle after the direct blow, drowning Agent Romanoff’s voice and curtly incapacitating all Agents with the sound disturbance while Keller steadied his legs and hurried to face his attacker. To point the gun at her again to threaten her, but only found his arm to be grabbed by the woman, rendering it unusable, the Trafficker drawing close to him and leveling his arm in front of him. The adrenaline pumping in his veins causing the young Agent to squeeze the trigger and fire a round into the wall as she continued her assault, rotating and using his surprise to throw him against the wall. Her grip to have moved up to his neck while her right hand kept his gun hand seized, although curtly stunned by the direct blow to his face Agent Keller then retaliating by swinging backwards. The Trafficker leaping away from him but wasn’t swift enough to avoid contact with him as he charged at her, his old hand in hand combat training kicking in as he brought a fist towards her shoulder, however the woman blocking his following bunches before leveling a few of her own. Curse slipping from between his lips as despite of him landing a few blows to her torso after a brief well-matched skirmish they didn’t render her immobile enough for him to take her down, however when she next took the opportunity to knee him to his stomach he grabbed her leg. Releasing an exclamation of exertion as he used all his strength to shove her backwards, tackling her against the wall in turn.

 _“Keller, what’s your status? Keller?”_ Steve’s voice finally got through the returned connection, tensed by the distinct clamor of ongoing fistfight conveyed through the open line. Agent Keller however not being able to respond, as before the man could relish in the assumption of victory while seeing the Trafficker on the ground, she recovered. With a shake of her head to free herself of the stupor claiming her taser and before Agent Keller could prepare zapped him to his ankle, Steve hearing him to let out a pained groan before the loud, audible slam signaled Keller to be down. With a strained breath the Trafficker watching the man to fall on his knees from the power of the zap before rose to her feet and elbowed him to the side of his jaw, sending him flying onto the corridor, his gun slipping from his fingers and sliding several meters away from the subdued Agent. After a swift look given to Keller’s writhing form her striding over to the gun, upon working through the pain of the given electric shock and he followed blow Keller hearing his weapon to be dismantled, taken the telltale sound of metallic parts falling to the floor, him turning around to face her in confusion. To have expected to be shot, but after returning his stare shortly he followed the Trafficker to simply abandon the remains of his weapon on the floor and flee. With an anguished frown Keller shifting fully onto his side, his team hearing him to release a wailing grunt.

_“Target got away…Heading for the third floor… She was talking with someone.”_

_“What? Who?”_ Harvey asked, conjuring up a headshake from the as addled Agent.

_“She had a phone with her. She was talking to someone when I caught up to her.”_

_“Maybe she was employed by someone else? Perhaps to fool Monroe into buying top secret data concerning S.H.I.E.L.D where her real objective was to entrap him?”_ Moore offered, Callagher responding with an incredulous click of her tongue.

_“Since when did someone like the Trafficker become such a good Samaritan?”_

_“I don’t know…But this whole thing doesn’t add up.”_

_“Her reasons are irrelevant. We need to catch her and bring her back to S.H.I.E.L.D…And she isn’t alone”,_ Keller told them, grimacing as found it still difficult to stand, making it impossible for him to run after the escaped woman.

 _“We’re on it”_ , was the response of the other Agents, Keller levering himself to a half sitting position groggily, the powerful electric current that had ran through him a moment ago still constraining his muscles. Him this time around letting out a frustrated sigh as re-opened the connection, addressing Steve, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw.

_“Followed your advice, sir. Acted like a gentleman, and look where it got me.”_

_“Are you hurt, Agent?”_ Steve asked, hearing the irritation in the man’s voice, him scoffing.

_“My pride maybe. But you’d better get yourselves down here.”_

_“Copy that.”_

Steve jumped back to action, flying the rest of the stairs down, sweeping the street and the restaurant’s vicinity with his gaze and seeing all the Monroe’s men that had gathered outside. While dashed across the street and begun to make his way towards the flank of the building that was currently yet unmanned in the cover of cars parked by the road, directing a look upward towards Agent Barton. Hiding from the group of four bodyguards who then parted from the rest of their comrades, indeed as their intention of placing a watch to the back of the building to make sure the Trafficker wouldn’t get away.

 _“Monroe’s men are swarming the place…Barton, go in and find her. I’ll take care of things down here and make sure the coast is clear. And Romanoff, locate the target’s other accomplice”_ , Steve said, waiting a moment before abandoned his hideout and started to follow Monroe’s men down the alley, hearing Clint’s response as watched the men to turn the corner.

_“How many are we talking about?”_

_“Ten. Maybe fifteen…More undoubtedly coming.”_

_“And you can handle it, Cap?”_

_“Sure he can. He’s a national hero who’s singlehandedly dispatched battalions of Nazis…What could a handful of nincompoops with firearms do to even scratch that mighty shield?”_ Tony cut in, causing Steve to leer at the heavens above as if Tony would’ve been flying right above him, mocking him.

_“You are welcome to join me, Stark.”_

_“Maybe later. I see some more gatecrashers flocking by the side door, heading your way.”_

_“Well, keep them busy until I’m done here… And help Romanoff to find the Trafficker’s partner”,_ Steve answered, coming up with a quick plan of attack until stepped from behind the building to the full view of the African men, detaching his shield and throwing it at the first taken aback man before made a swift charge. Rendering the man immobile by throwing him on his back, blocking the second man’s attack by raising his shield before shoving him back just as he was about to pull his gun at him.

_“My exact intention, Rogers.”_

The Trafficker ran to the end of the corridor, reclaiming her phone as begun to climb the stairs leading to the third floor. The lack of following footsteps telling her the Agent to have given up chase for now and no one else to be following her, the quizzical tone of the man starting to speak to her then only sounding interested as it demanded answers.

“Friends of yours? Old client with a vendetta against you?”

“If only. I don’t know who he was”, the Trafficker answered, frowning slightly upon trying to figure out the identity of the Agent who had attacked her…and apparently tried to apprehend her.

“Well, I have quite valid of a guess…There seems to be at least two more roaming about outside…I suppose S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t take your trading with their secrets at all nicely taken that they didn’t sent any common party poopers to spoil our fun. They definitely aren’t here for a small fry like Monroe.”

The Trafficker paused, thinking his words over, until it all dawned on her in one baffling instant. “S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“Wasn’t it obvious when you fought with one of them? S.H.I.E.L.D operatives always stick out like the sorest of all thumbs. Especially the one I’m looking at right now. The Star Spangled Man himself, bashing the tint out of Monroe’s men as we speak.”

The Trafficker paused yet again, this time for utter astonishment. “Captain America?”

“Along with the Metal Man. He’s done a valid job in trying to remain hidden, but I spotted him hovering about the building some time ago. Like they’d actually let you do whatever you want with the data you acquired…This was to be expected.”

“And you didn’t see it necessary to say anything?” she demanded, now somewhat annoyed for a split of a second, although she knew it not to be at any level surprising him to care shit about details even as major as the involvement of such notable allies of S.H.I.E.L.D as long as he’d do his required bit. “And how is it that they _knew_ about my meeting with Monroe?”

“You have your big girl pants on. Handle it. And maybe you’re not so good at keeping secrets as you think.”

 _“_ Or _you.”_

“Which of us is having a finger on the trigger of a R93? With this assimilated alien tech I could blast a hole to your forehead right through that wall, so shut that pretty mouth before I find you too annoying to let further run it…Or I leave those two Agents coming hot on your trail to take care of you for me.”

“You already have the money. Just clear out”, the Trafficker stated curtly as a response, squinting as made an instinctive glance behind herself at the mention of the Agents apparently tracking her. Her tone briefly turning more somber as she indeed then could hear the approaching echo of running feet of her pursuers, her resuming her escape and was about to make a turn to the higher sub-floor while listening to the distinct click of a safety to be released against her ear.

“Already gone. I agreed to come here, but certainly am not going to get caught with you. Least of all because of you….Five more minutes.”

The Trafficker ended the call, as begun to ascend the final steps snapping the phone in two. However in so doing not noticing Agent Barton who had managed to reach the sub-floor before her due to the distraction provided by the Trafficker’s mystery accomplice, giving Clint the needed window to get inside the building and plant an ambush for their target before she reached him. When he saw her dash to sight and when her full attention was on the snapped phone during that brief instant him taking a step forward as swiftly leapt in the air to take hold of the iron railing of the staircase, surprising the woman by kicking her. The Trafficker catapulting backwards and rolling the few last stairs down until made another painful crash with the wall of the landing, hitting the side of her face to the corner of the final step. Clint arming his bow as the briefly disoriented Trafficker heard the sound of the tensed bow, upon feeling droplets of blood to trickle down to the corner of her eye her raising her gaze while straightening and confronting Clint. The man eyeing at her silently the most earnest look on his face until his strict exterior cracked just slightly for interest. The man giving her a fleeting appraising look-over, giving the weapons strapped to her thighs a quick glance until shifted his own, holding the bow sideways while stared at the waylaid target along the shaft of his armed bolt.

“What? Smeared your make-up?” he questioned, jeeringly as gave her a remarkable look at the sight of her countenance. Beckoning to the woman’s lipstick that had apparently smeared during her unexpected tumble down the stairs, the Trafficker at first giving him a quizzical look until brought a hand to wipe away the red from her cheek in realization of his words. Rising, starting to ascend the stairs slowly.

“You’re with S.H.I.E.L.D?” she asked, receiving a confirming nod in return.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with us”, Clint answered, nodding officially as a sign for the woman to start make her way over to him. Her however simply staring back at him while narrowing her eyes at the mention of “us” subtly, wondering how many Agents exactly there were on the scene, until Clint saw her eventually shake her head.

“I’m too busy running away to go anywhere with you.”

“Then I’m even more sorry, but I have to make you”, Clint replied, after a split of a second unarming his bow before swung it towards her, aiming at her head, the woman however only ducking backwards and took hold of it herself. Resulting in them engaging in a momentary tug of war with the woman trying to bring him down with a couple of sharply aimed kicks to his sides, which he withstood, until Clint tried to resolve the rough-and-tumble with a clean kick of his own directed at her waist, the Trafficker however dodging his attack in time and released him. Swiftly drawing two expendable batons, before lunging at him with a couple of fast strikes.

Clint received the other blow with his bow while the second one found its mark, the man warding it off with his arm. Having to step back as the Trafficker directed three more swift lashes at him, Clint bringing his bow down to trap her left hand under his, avoiding a swing directed at his head, until he threw his arm up. Untangling himself from the woman, however getting forced to abandon his weapon of choice as with a small leap the Trafficker came at him, resulting in them ending up exchanging haphazard blows at one another. Some hitting, some missing, until after a couple of minutes swinging of fists and delivering kicks, Clint managed to disarm the target and get her into a headlock thanks to his more polished tactics in hand in hand combat. Despite of this the woman however not surrendering, after a brief moment of Clint trying to restrain her and hearing the confirmative announcements of his nearby teammates to be almost at his location, the Trafficker letting go of his arms after trying to lever them apart from her torso. Tampering with her bracelet a bit before swinging her right fist up towards Clint’s head, the man stopping it in the nick of time, but begun to struggle to hold the woman down upon to have been forced to release the grip of his other arm. Watching his hand to begun to waver as he tried to push her arm away, their entwined fists however bit by bit closing in on his temple despite of his effort, and before the man knew what she was up to she turned her wrist. The side of the bracelet making contact with his head, sending a small electric current running across his scalp and with a jolt Clint was stunned. Him letting go of the Trafficker who was swift to twirl around and this time draw her own gun, shooting the man straight to his groin, but despite of the fleeting horror of the man didn’t blast him with a bullet. Clint finding himself taken down by excruciating pain but only caused by getting zapped with another electric shock once the special kind of round made contact with him, after fighting against the gravity pulling him downward Clint finding himself collapsing on his back, fidgeting. After giving the incapacitated Agent Barton a fleeting look the Trafficker was alerted by the noise coming from the lower staircase, the two other Agents arriving, to witness her standing over Agent Barton. Callagher and Moore immediately going for their own weapons at the sight of the gun in her hand, but the Trafficker made a suave turn and raised it again, firing two more shots at the Agents and causing them to drop their own weapons once the electricity shot through them. Paralyzing them, leaving them twitching on the floor same as Barton, as the Trafficker holstered her gun. Snatching her fallen batons from beside Clint whom she then noticed to go for his bow regardless of the uncontrollable jerking of his body, her releasing a sigh as softly placed her foot on Clint’s wrist, shaking her head.

“Please don’t. It’ll only hurt more.”

Clint released an agonized moan himself as despite of her words went to grab her shin, the woman simply glancing down at his fingers trying to squeeze her leg but due to the trembling hold she simply shoved his hand off, with a strained breath Clint spying the Trafficker to leave from the corner of his eye, for naught him even planning to grab her again as she just casually stepped over him. The pain of ending up zapped right in his groin too great for him to move and give chase, him listening to his fellow Agents wails from small distance away as then heard Natasha calling him. With tardy movements Clint going for his earpiece, clearing his throat as hold back a new groan.

“ _Agent down…She got me…She got me good”_ , he announced, his hand hovering over the source of pain the modified gun had shocked him to, Natasha’s voice full of disbelief as she soon replied. Still serious upon to have heard the sound of the gunshots.

_“She shot you?”_

_“No…much worse”_ , he grumbled, grimacing at the surging pain of the double blow he’d received as tried to sit up. Finding it impossible, settling down relaxed in an attempt to take it easy as long as the twitching would stop, bringing his other hand to rub the smarting spot on his torso. _“New plan, Cap…she’s playing pretty dirty so…go all out. Gallantry ain’t going to cut it…She headed for the exit on the back.”_

 _“How is it looking, Captain?”_ Tony asked, blasting the last of Monroe’s mercenaries from their feet who’d tried to come at him with bare fists, as goon like them often miscalculated to have thought to win over him with brute force where anyone who knew enough about him and his capabilities with his suit realized not to make the mistake for being that stupid. _”Intercept her when she comes out?”_

 _“A little occupied at the moment”,_ was Steve’s tense response, the team hearing him release a frustrated breath of exertion as he warded off two of Monroe’s men, receiving their respective attacks with his shield and was pushed back only slightly, until took his stance. Stepping to the side and swung his shield right at the closest man, causing him to tumble and giving Steve room to charge at the second one, taking him down with a few sharply aimed punches, however for his continued irritation finding indeed more of Monroe’s men to be making their way towards him. With guns, seeing three or four machine guns to be pointed at him. _“I’ll leave her to you. I can’t shake these guys.”_

 _“We’re making too great of a hassle here. The authorities will soon be on our asses if we don’t clear out soon with the target”,_ Harvey commented, Tony responding to him as soared above the building, leveling a fleeting look to battling Steve’s direction before returned his attention back to all the possible doors and windows the Trafficker could crawl out from.

_“Not us, but Monroe. They will probably think this as a common confrontation between rival gangs.”_

Steve spotted another car that was parked by the alleyway, making a dash towards it as blocked the first rounds with his shield until slid behind the vehicle, allowing it to absorb the rest of the wasted fire the mercs fired at it in desperate attempt to hit him. A few of them managing to pierce the car and whiz past the hunched Steve, the man this time around letting out a breath of disbelief, peeking at the approaching men from behind the car. _“Still…How many men does one arms dealer need?”_

 _“After setting up the meeting he probably prepared a cavalry of his own should things not go as planned…Which they didn’t. He isn’t fully dumb despite of how he looks…and how easily he was fooled by the Trafficker”,_ Natasha replied, receiving a snappy response back from Steve, who saw the first two mercenaries to reach the car. Holding fire, giving him the chance to counter attack.

 _“And her partner?”_ he queried, managing to thrust the car backwards just enough for it to tackle the approaching men, Steve snatching the fallen gun of the other mercenary and fired a few rounds to stop the advancement of the rest of the nearby men. Once they fell back or saught shelter him leaping on top of the car’s hood, jumping high to land his shield on the shoulder of the closest mercenary. Briefly kneeling as sought momentum to his following strike, bringing his shield up to throw his next adversary back with a quick hit lined up to his jaw. Then turning around to block a new series of shots fired at him, immediately charging at the man having him in his sights, amongst the angry grunts of his opponents Steve hearing Natasha’s own taut answer.

_“No sign of them. Whoever they are they are good at hiding. I haven’t found anyone nor seen anyone flee from the scene after the skirmish started.”_

_“Stark?”_ Steve accosted quizzically, smacking his shield on the face of the merc trying to attack him from behind, however in the process receiving a direct hit of a fist to his own jaw once the man recovered from the received blow, countering it far quicker than Steve anticipated. Another one then coming from behind him and wrapping his arms around Steve, rendering him immobile, Steve trying to shake him off of himself while watched the other man to draw a pistol from his shoulder holster after landing a gut punch to his stomach, arming it.

_“Haven’t seen them. They probably already ran…But, oh…here’s something.”_

Tony didn’t go into further detail concerning his previous comment, however as anticipated while hovering about the building and witnessing all the sides to be either watched by Monroe’s men or otherwise manned by the group Steve was fighting against and the mercs whose asses he himself had just a moment before whooped, the only exit that remained utterly unobstructed was now naturally utilized by their target whom Tony saw climb out of a ventilation shaft. Clever girl, to have made it seem she’d use one of the common exists with the little chase she’d orchestrated to deceive any pursuers…All except him, and now he’d caught her right on the act of escaping, when she probably reckoned to be all clear to slip away.

_“Alright, I see her. She’s on the roof.”_

_“When did she get there?”_ Clint remarked.

_“Dunno, but she’s here. Going in and all out.”_

_“Don’t harm her. S.H.I.E.L.D needs her alive”,_ Steve interjected, as one of the few people who’d seen Tony in action and knew what kind of harm he was capable of doing, for this reason causing the Iron Man to hold back an eye-roll as he cast a jaded glance to his way from the distance.

_“I would never hit a woman…Unless she’d throw in the first punch and go for the turned over cheek next…But just out of curiosity, what kind of man do you think I am, Cap?”_

_“Ever the perfect gentleman”,_ Natasha added, hardly meaning it, but despite of her incredulous tone earning herself an approving utterance from Tony’s end.

_“Glad you’ve noticed.”_

_“Stark…”_

_“Ease up, soldier. She isn’t going anywhere now that I’m here…”_ Tony stated, in so doing proving his words by increasing the power of his suit, swooping down towards the unwitting woman with a twirl until took her by surprise by flying in front of her. Stopping her advancement towards the edge of the roof, switching his intercom to an output microphone for the woman to hear him. _“Heads up!”_

The Trafficker had heard him coming, but didn’t possess fast enough reflexes to shift her gaze upward until the last minute when it was already too late. Alerted by the sound of rapidly approaching thrusters her to have simply glanced up at the sound of his voice before she was tackled by the Iron Man himself, Tony landing a light kick to her torso, but powerful enough to throw her back as he landed on the roof. The woman however not falling down, but was simply shoved backwards a few steps, after finding her balance by dropping to her knees to stabilize herself instinctively taking upon a protective stance. Facing Tony who then immediately raised his hands, firing up the repulsors on his palms to warn her from moving, getting his message across by the slight evaluative look-over he gained from her until she sighed. In clear annoyance, however before neither of them could say anything Tony taking notice the crooked positioning of her suddenly shifted hairline. After she noticed the same and blew some obstructing brown strands from her mien Tony following her to indeed take hold of the now distinct edge of what was then revealed to be a wig, removing it, it to have partly come off during her latest tumble backwards. Tony quirking his eyebrows as observed her to untie her apparently blonde locks, raking through the dark dyed roots to free the flattened strands, until tossed them behind her back. Tony tilting his head at the discovery of her real haircolor, glancing at the tips that reached just past her shoulders in approval.

“Oh, I see. We’ve got a blonde… _We’ve got a blonde, here, people!_ …Should’ve known, since those curls looked quite fake to me…but good you’re not a redhead. I dislike redheads these days, and let’s face it…all gentlemen prefer blondes”, Tony remarked, utterly casually as by that time had been talking into his intercom. Natasha reacting to his comment with a half smirk, picking up the sour undertone of his previous comment and only finding his harbored spite concerning their history flattering, where it only confused Steve who’d by then been released from the mercenary’s grip. Grabbing the wrist of the man trying to shoot him, the shot digging into the ground.

_“Do they?”_

_“It’s a movie, Steve”_ , Natasha specified, while aware of the made reference her amused voice gaining a jeering, sweet tint at the end of her speech. _“Made about ten years after you crashed into ice…You’re just so innocent sometimes with your general confusion about pop-culture.”_

 _“Guys, I’m talking”_ , Tony cut in, in feigned indignation as returned his focus back to the Trafficker who simply eyed at him silently, him however then noticing her hands to inch towards her batons, but he leveled the repulsors directly at her. “No no, fastest gun of the west…Keep your hands to yourself and stand down. The sheriff’s in town and has come to take you in.”

“Then I’m in trouble”, the Trafficker answered, hardly sounding concerned however as stared at Tony deadpan, eyeing at his repulsors significantly as hoisted her hands up. “Going to draw your gun?”

“Don’t make me, magpie. Your days of stealing are over”, Tony answered, joining her platitudes with his, partly out of habit.

“Says you?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. I’m just an errand boy.”

“Very expensive one. That must piss you off…To send a millionaire to do a common Agent’s job.”

“Me? I’m simply doing this out of the goodness of my heart. But S.H.I.E.L.D’s cooked up quite a posse for just to get an audience with you.”

“I didn’t realize I was that important.”

“Is there a reason why you’re monologuing? What, are you stalling?” Tony mused, in amusement as grew understandably bored of their clichéd exchange, glancing about their vicinity as if expecting some form of deus ex machina to arrive to save her while she was aiming to distract him with her speech. Returning the woman’s stoic gaze and watching her to raise her eyebrows.

“No. I’m simply waiting for you to stop talking and get out of my way.”

“Oh, I know the tricks you pulled on my friends. I’m not going to fall to any of that, so…just turn in. _Quietly_ ”, Tony replied, his voice hardening at the end. Although the Trafficker couldn’t see his face, the positioning of his body even under all that armor added to his acrid delivery telling her him to be not messing around. However neither of them expecting what happened next, J.A.R.V.I.S’s voice abruptly stealing Tony’s focus.

“Sir, there’s an unidentified object flying your way from east. Impact time, three seconds.”

Tony shifted, just slightly to indeed spot something flying straight at him but not having time to turn nor question J.A.R.V.I.S for details when he was unexpectedly rammed by a powerful projectile. Not a strong one, but catching Tony completely off guard, the sudden impact pushing him to the side and putting the equally taken aback woman out of his line of fire. The Trafficker’s eyes flying to stare at the spot the ammunition had hit, to the joint of the arm of Tony’s suit as did the Iron Man’s once he recovered from the sudden occurrence. The ensued blast of green, resembling eerie flames infusing with his armor, that had momentarily blinded Tony now waning and giving him the chance to inspect the damage regardless of not expecting any. However his discovery rendering him even further surprised as instead of a pristine metal he saw actual dints on the suit, for his following confusion him witnessing how something started to dissipate the metal. Eating it away, practically liquifying it directly from the spot the strange ammo had made contact, upon witnessing the apparent damage dealt for the man’s suit the Trafficker glancing to the direction the unforeseen shot had come. Recognizing it, realizing that her partner hadn’t after all fled the moment S.H.I.E.L.D had been revealed to have made an appearance and instead had stuck around. The effects of the blast intensifying rapidly and Tony could only watch his suit to fall apart, him raising his arm in bewilderment as behold his skin to begin to show through the spreading gaps as the metal kept deteriorating.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, damage report?” he asked, although it was obvious. Being however so stunned that that was all he could say, stupefied.

“The foreign substance that the suit absorbed appears to be affecting the cellular structure of the metal, destructing it.”

“Any way to reverse it?”

“None, sir. You should exit the suit immediately.”

Tony refused to believe it, struggling a bit as if he could’ve stopped the destruction of his suit that had occurred so easily in a blink of an eye with a power of his mind, but he knew J.A.R.V.I.S was right. If he didn’t get out of the suit the whatever stuff corroding it could eventually eat into him, in the nick of time as the corrosion moved over to the chest panels Tony slipping out of the suit. In his hurry collapsing on his knees, the Trafficker giving his Iron Maiden t-shirt, pajama pants and half trimmed goatee a curious look as Tony supported himself on his arms. Releasing a stunned breath of part relief, until noticed the woman’s wondering expression, rising.

“I was in middle of preparing for a party when the call came. Wasn’t given time to change into something more commando”, he offered as an unrequested explanation, the Trafficker simply inclining her head as now that the man wasn’t anymore protected by his suit clasped her gun.

“Move”, she told him, ordering him. Tony simply confronting her with an expression that made him look like a petulant child, where his eyes were but grim…as was his reply, him taking a subtle, mockery stance as if he were a karate master.

“Move me.”

The Trafficker wasted no time, coming at Tony with a suave attack, not utilizing her gun but tried to tackle the man by rotating her torso and going for his legs. Tony barely dodging, not all that accustomed for fistfights without the advantage brought by his suit that so far had become self-evidence to him not proving himself all that great of an opponent as he’d hoped, hopping backwards where the woman this time came forth with her left elbow directed at his chest. Making impact, Tony however stepping back just in time to clasp to her arm. The Trafficker responding by swinging her right arm down, about to strike the butt of her handgun on Tony’s shoulder to incapacitate him. Tony’s other hand shooting to the side to grab her wrist, them standing there for a while, testing each other’s strength. Staring each other square in the eye during their power struggle, until the Trafficker reacted by going slightly slack in Tony’s hold, sliding down so that her right leg settled between Tony’s. Tony looking down to see her legs then clamp his, the Trafficker then taking advantage of his hold of her by rotating her body again. Using the trapped leg of Tony’s to shift their bodies to the side, tackling them both on the rooftop, using the man’s stupefaction in her advantage by hauling her left leg upward as her gun slipped from her grasp. For her knee to press against the man’s chest and shoulder once she then pushed Tony down. His grip of her forearm loosening once he could feel her knee to dig into the soft spot on his throat, threatening to cut his airflow with a slightly harder press as she faced him, half on top of him. Pinning him in place, until after a brief moment released him, and rose to her feet. Once Tony refused to let go of her wrist her twisting again, this time managing to land a painful blow to his chest which did the trick, Tony’s hold unfastening. Sending him stumbling backwards in turn and giving the woman time to pick up the gun, shooting a round at Tony, electrocuting him.

 _“Stark? Stark, do you copy?”_ Steve called, them to have abruptly lost contact with him. However upon not gaining a response him addressing Natasha. _“Romanoff, what happened?”_

 _“Tony was shot with some kind of long range weapon. The round caused some kind of a reaction with his suit and started to dismantle it…”_ Natasha told him, baffling all of the team members. _“It came from the east side building. It had to be her partner.”_

 _“Is that possible?”_ Keller asked, surprised.

 _“Find them, now!”_ Steve commanded, Natasha abandoning her own station and left their effects where they stood, heading for the exit of the building they’d been using as a base.

_“I’m on it.”_

The Trafficker left Tony to gasp for air as immediately left, running towards the edge of the roof, wasting no time in dawdling at the scene and jumped on the roof of the proximate building, calculating to go down to the street level by using the next fire-escape she’d come upon. Seeing no more S.H.I.E.L.D operatives around figuring to be finally free of further distractions thanks to the unexpected backup, indeed after dropping herself to the staircase and checking there to be no one at the alley, starting to make her way down. In a manner of minute reaching the street, just as Steve was finishing his own prolonged, ongoing skirmish, taking out the last of the standing Monroe’s men. Now once freed of the hindrances him trying to re-establish the connection with Tony, canvasing the nearby rooftops for any visual sightings of either him or the target.

_“Stark? Stark, do you hear me?”_

_“She bounced. Headed for the next building.”_

_“What happened? Why didn’t you respond?”_

_“Try having 40,000 volts ran through you and then try to pick yourself up enough to find a nearest payphone to make a call back to the office”_ , Tony said, understandably grimly. Talking to Clint’s earpiece, the Agent to have arrived to the roof with Keller and Callagher and was currently removing the stuck on ammunition that had released the electric shock from Tony’s shirt. “She defeated me. Her partner took out my suit and she used that to have a jump on me. Not all of us have undefeatable supersoldier serum to draw from.”

 _“So she ran?”_ Harvey asked, as of late no one knowing his current status.

 _“No, I see her. She’s coming down, to an alley not far from you, Cap. She’s at the fire-escape”_ , Natasha cut in, from her own vantage point spotting the fleeing form of the Trafficker at the stairs, Steve immediately taking off running. _“I can’t get to her in time. She’s going to vanish if you don’t get to her now.”_

_“And her partner?”_

_“Got away. No trace of them.”_

_“Leave her to me”_ , Steve said after a slight pause, sprinting along the street in a hurry, however as he reached the end of the alleyway and turned a corner, he took but a couple of running steps more as spotted the Trafficker to come to an abrupt halt just before arriving to one of the main streets. The woman hearing a sudden noise from the narrow alley on her left, but just as was about to face whatever came at her she was grabbed. Her arms caught by a pair of strong arms, her eyes jumping to her right to see more of Monroe’s men to appear from their apparent hiding. To have managed to plant an ambush on her, where total of three cars pulled up to block the fairway to the street to prevent her from running, surrounding her in an instant, however her having no time to do anything else than cast bewildered glances at the mercenaries until her taser was snatched from its holder and she blacked out once she was shocked directly to the base of her neck. Steve following Monroe’s men to pull a bag over her head and begin to drag her limp body towards one of the SUVs, encouraging him into another furious run as he saw the men to begin to withdraw once they had the Trafficker ensnared and captured. Steve watching an orange sports car to be the first to pull away from the street, followed by the car filled with Monroe’s mercs. Steve exerting his feet to the maximum as he saw the last SUV begin to leave, but finally he closed the distance between him and the cars and leapt forth just in time to tackle the last two bodyguards trying to enter the SUV. However while taking out the mercs Steve not being able to stop the car from leaving, while the men kept him occupied the other men already inside the car shut the doors. The car making a radical turn, almost crashing the wall as Steve kneed his second adversary to his jaw, throwing his shield at the vehicle. Aiming at the car’s back tire, but missed just barely once the SUV sped into motion and scudded out of the alleyway, sudden police sirens beginning to ring at the background as Steve swooped down to pick up his shield, stopping before came to a halt with a defeated sigh. Jogging after the cars to the sidewalk, simply watching the cars to drive away, damning their luck to have had Tony targeted by the Trafficker’s partner so that he couldn’t fly after them to find out where they were going.

 _“I was too late. Monroe’s got her”_ , he imparted, hearing a surprised utterance from his earpiece as Clint answered.

 _“How’s that possible? If she ran from_ us _, how in hell did Monroe get his hands on her?”_

 _“Maybe she underestimated him…As did we”_ , Steve replied, his head snapping to his right once he heard the footsteps of arriving Natasha who then sided him, also looking after the cars that now disappeared from sight brakes screeching. Finally the distinct clamor of loud sirens waking his attention, Steve turning around to gaze to the direction of the club building. _“What’s that commotion about?”_

 _“It’s the police. They just pulled up by the restaurant and are beginning to raid the club”,_ Harvey informed them, however not being able to continue as while trying to exit the club along with several other people currently thronging out of the establishment at the sight of invading police officers he found himself surrounded…Steve and the rest of the team hearing the snappy commands of the cops through Harvey’s intercom as they commanded him to get to the ground, to surrender.

“Did he just get…busted by the cops?” Keller questioned, out loud, as also he and Callagher had joined Steve and Natasha on the ground level, leaving Clint and Tony still on the roof since the Iron Man was still struggling to recover from the electric shock. However the Agent not receiving an answer as at that same moment a couple of patrol cars drove to the alley, speeding their way while the team turned around. Everyone except Steve, who simply listened to the sound of slamming car doors once a handful of officers exited the vehicle, leveling guns at them in clear mind of arresting them.

“Police! Surrender your weapons and put your hands up! Now!” grim voice shouted, the Agents giving the appeared cops baffled looks as hadn’t expected to end up circled by a local authorities like common criminals. For that sole reason not responding to their orders, a couple of them approaching them while positioned their guns at them higher. Tilting them threateningly. “Put your hands up now! And you, drop your…shield…”

A sudden glimpse at Steve’s shield silenced the lastly spoken officer, now him and the rest of his colleagues pausing as took a better look at the brawny man standing at the back of this odd bunch they’d only assumed as Monroe’s mercenaries. However starting to think that not to be the case as the red, blue and white coloring of Steve’s suit and the very out of place appearance of his comrades made them realize to have made an error in their judgment, Steve proving this by finally turning around and confronting the cops. Several of them gasping when as expected they immediately recognized him, their weapons lowering in awe as Steve fixated his gaze to the nearest police officer.

“Who of you is in charge?” he questioned. Not quite understanding either how had they ended up apprehended by the local police despite of their target’s apparent involvement in their unexpected arrival taken the testimony of her hired accomplice, but had no choice but to comply to the situation. After a brief silence from behind one of the cars’ open doors stepping out a man who certainly looked like a senior detective, not old in age per se but having an experienced air about him as he holstered his pistol, returning Steve’s stare surprised but also extremely curious. Walking over to him as eyed at Steve’s team quizzically, quirking a brow at the instantly recognizable appearance of the blonde man familiar to him from the news, following Steve to attach his characteristic shield to his back.

“Detective Horace, at your service. But as we’re making introductions, would you mind explaining who are these people with you, and what exactly has brought Captain America himself in middle of a mere police raid all the way in South Africa?” he spoke, sizing Steve up in wonder. Steve approaching the detective as met his gaze, offering his hand for a shake.

“We need to talk. It is urgent, and concerning the owner of the club you just raided, Simeon Monroe…And a certain person he’s been affiliated with that interests us.”


	2. Whistleblower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in bold = foreign language

Blinding, hot light streamed inside from under her eyelids. Successfully stirring her from unconsciousness as the painful, uncomfortable sensation forced her awake and with a jolt she fluttered her eyes fully open. The bright light to have vanished, but which she soon discovered to have only shifted from directly glaring at her face to only shining from right above her from a dusty, old light bulb that was rocking slightly. In courtesy of a draft she could feel play with the short hairs of her skin and make it go goose bumps, throwing flailing shadows onto the surrounding brick walls she found to be enclosed in as with watery eyes she scoured her vicinity. Givenly groggy, her squinting at the smarting feeling at the base of her neck where she vaguely recalled the stun gun that had shocked her before. Her squirming not only due to the pain left by the surprise attack, but because of her arms which she then discovered to have been rendered immobile by stark bonds. Secured onto the arms of an otherwise rickety chair she was sitting in by not rope or anything else severable but by solid metal, her trying to move them for no avail, but that was all she was capable of doing at the moment as desperately tried to focus her unclear gaze onto something tangible that would explain where the hell she was. Her even considering whether or not she’d been dosed with something more than a mere stunning shot of electricity, however the inability to see clearly being caused only by the water that kept welling up from due to the unexpected reflection of light leveled directly into her forcibly opened eyes. Her not remembering a thing other than being abruptly intercepted at the alley but a moment after being held back by the unexpected team of S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Iron Man himself. Her however having not to rake her brain long for her to piece together the identity of the person who’d seemingly captured her and dragged her to this dirty, isolated warehouse looking space which positively reminded of a torture chamber. Quick glances cast down at the concrete floor beneath her locating the old, dark smears of multitude, telling her instantly exactly where she was, Monroe needing not to even to speak up for the Trafficker to guess her to be in his personal playroom where he took all who crossed him. Her releasing an annoyed sigh as she looked back up, in feigned disappointment of the man not currently rotting in jail peering at the stoic looking African who then leaned forward in his own chair, appearing out of the dark of the room and making his presence known to her finally sharpened vision. The Trafficker returning the arms dealer’s gaze for a moment until straightened as much as was able, closing her eyes again with a slight indignant purse of her lip, hating the disgusting taste in her dry mouth. A set of footsteps informing her someone else to be in the room as well with them, and once she looked to the direction of the noise she saw one of Monroe’s men to arrive by his boss’ side, a damn flashlight in his hand, the woman this time around releasing a hateful scoff at the sight of it. Leering at the goon murderously to thank him for to the crude awakening she’d received.

 **“You’re finally awake** ”, Monroe begun, his tone appearing as poised and devoid of emotion as did his countenance, the Trafficker inching up her brows in disinterest and lassitude.

 **“Or this is a very odd dream for me to have”** , she replied, bemoaning over her failed attempt of arranging the police to come over and arrest him after providing the needed evidence they’d lacked for years. Her however not aiming to be funny as squeezed her eyes shut shortly to dispel the smarting of them, and the man in front of her definitely wasn’t amused by her answer. Raising his clenched jaw, but no matter how much he tried to hide it not only from the tensed muscles of his chin she could tell him to be on the brink of flaring up. Giving it his all not to let the anger that smoldered in his eyes to get the best of him while he eyed back at her, to rise from that chair of his to snatch that flashlight from his minion to painfully bash it on her face. Her knowing but one wrong word from her to cause him to indeed leap out of that seat, like an animal charging at its prey its claws out.

**“I assure you that it is not. I have given you your rest, but now it is time for us to come in terms about certain matters.”**

**“Is that why you had your bloodhounds abduct me? To talk?”** the Trafficker questioned, her broody turning mien signaling her to least appreciate to have been imprisoned by the man. **“You had my number. You should’ve called. It is my policy to never meet with clients I’ve done business with twice.”**

 **“I apologize. But you have stolen from me, and you can surely imagine how that makes me feel** ”, Monroe remarked, raising his entwined fingers before they slid across his thighs, to settle on his knees once the man leaned forward again. His other hand then flexing towards his trouser pocket, grasping something inside it.

 **“You need not to tell me”,** she agreed matter-of-factly, sighing again as flexed her own muscles, writhing against the immovable metal fasteners, her eyes flicking back to Monroe’s as he broke the ensued silence. Her measuring the man through the blare of yellow light and specks of dust filtering the stuffy air, now distinctly recognizing the irony hue in the room as blood, which was not her own. Squinting as watched him unceremoniously draw out a small army knife, another telltale that she wasn’t the only person that had been in this room having “a chat” with him. **“Y’know, if you really wanted to insist on being a gentleman you could’ve had your men lay me down somewhere more comfortable.”**

**“I’m not that pleasant. After all I have reason to be far more upset with you that I am, and you…You already took advantage of my courtesy, which would anger any man. Not only those who recently lost several million to a con woman. And you did try to sic the police on me. It could’ve only been you.”**

The Trafficker tilted her head. As a form of a question, not admitting to anything as Monroe’s stare turned now sharper as he rose from his chair, but although the shift in his expression did make her a bit unnerved she only stared back at him silently. Calmly, waiting for him to continue to reveal all his cards so that she could plan for her counter measures, although the knife was plenty to go on...As much as she was able to do while being held in the angered arms dealer’s personal dungeon, surrounded by his trigger-happy bodyguards who undoubtedly had been given the order to kill her if she even twisted a finger in a way that was displeasing to their boss. While thinking this her gaze momentarily traveling over to the gun strapped to the mercenary’s belt, just within reach of a fast flick of a wrist…Quicker than she could even knee him to his groin, and sadly…as if prepared for that the man was standing a bit too far.

 **“I have to say to be hurt…I thought you and I parted in good terms, to have formed a relationship based on respect and appreciation that is bound to ensue between two people brought together by a fruitful transaction...But perhaps I should blame myself. I had known for you to favour double-crossing your clients, but since you directly contacted me yourself after obtaining the goods I had considered myself special”** , Monroe mused, a bit more ire coloring his baritone as he now came to a halt in front of the Trafficker, her raising her head higher to meet his eyes as he displayed the serrated blade to her until brought it over to the corner of her eye casually. Upon blinking and casting a tense look at the knife her feeling her lashes to fan against the thin metal, with a dragging movement and the tip just barely missing her eyeball Monroe sliding the flat side along her cheekbone. Pressing just enough to create the tension of cutting her but not actually digging the blade into her skin other than in a form of threat. Lastly resting the tip on the corner of her mouth, giving it a slight tap before brushed the outlines of her lips lightly, to remind her to choose her words carefully, as despite of what she soon heard him say he _was_ trying to intimidate her. But stealth as he tried to be by forsaking actual pummeling her to a pulp with fists, this wasn’t the first nor the worst time she had found herself under a knife of a person she’d pissed off.

 **“So you want an apology?”** she asked, talking against the knife that has been pressed against her mouth, the action causing the sharp edge to accidentally cut her. Her feeling a tiny trickle to drip down her jaw as Monroe tilted a head at her, his eyes hard as granite as he now moved the knife away from her, flicking it downwards. In a flash pushing the blade under the shoulder strap of her top and cut it. The woman giving the formed bloody scrape an indifferent look as the man seemed to change his tactic. Switching from other means of pressuring her to comply to another, while certain type of innuendo entered his words hooking the knife under the strap of her bra while his free hand clasped her jaw, forcing her to face him. Despite of him placing a meaningful leg between her spreads knees the smile playing on her lips visibly annoying him.

**“No. I only want you to return the item I paid for. No tricks, lies and further deception. Just a simple exchange, like before.”**

**“Exchange?”** the woman asked, although the question was pointless by the way the man had been caressing her with that knife for the past minute. Clearly not doing it simply because he could, however not scaring her even half as much as he’d hoped, which was why the knife remained stuck under the bra’s strap for far longer than Monroe had planned. Upon speaking him wiping away the trail of fresh blood from her chin as stepped back, realizing to have failed, so decided to stop useless games and switch to honesty.

**“The data…for your life.”**

At that the Trafficker let out an actual laugh, to have guessed the man to say that, as it had been coming for the past several minutes since their discussion had started, and as that was the way self-claimed hard-asses such as him always wanted to play to appear most foreboding. Especially Monroe, her finding it laughable that he assumed ordinary apply of threat while paired with a couple of suggestive looks and grazes of that knife would make her fall apart into a sniveling, hysteric woman he undoubtedly expected her to turn into while tied down at the mercy of him as he did his best to appear the most wayward son of a bitch walking this earth. And he was not, her pointing it out to him by openly expressing her disbelief at his serious try to be menacing, tilting her own head at him inquisitively.

**“So I’m here for you to torture the truth out of me? Not all that surprising. Do you think I wasn’t prepared for that the moment I picked up the phone? I knew the risks of playing you for a fool, and although it sucks for me right now the most…you can go ahead and intimidate me all you want. Because you really have to carve the knowledge out of me since I don’t have the faintest desire to do you a favor of giving you what you want. I dislike you too much.”**

**“But you see, I’m not a violent man. Not truly. Quick tempered, yes, but I don’t like to hurt women. I take no pleasure in that…Nor in useless trifling with people with violent platitudes that rarely have any real effect on the victim. So I ask you to think of your situation and not force me to do something I’m not comfortable with”** , Monroe mused after a curt laughter, which however had been far from amused, almost putting on an Oscar worth performance of actual regret and reluctance as withdrew the knife then, putting it away to support his words. To top it off his expression softening a little from that somber frown he’d worn to that moment as he next directed a coaxing look at her, once more failing to recognize her as a person who wasn’t so easily persuaded by the possibility of getting hurt…or this kind of pretentious display of compassion which was but hilarious coming from a questionable character prone to brutal violence such as him. She knew too much about him to buy any of that.

 **“Then what is this? What was the point of dragging me over here against my will if you are as uncomfortable with it as am I?”** she asked.

**“I just wanted us to have chance for a honest, unpressured conversation without an interference of the police…or those mystery men my bodyguards spotted keeping an eye on me all evening.”**

The Trafficker cast a sharp look at Monroe, surprised. So he was aware of S.H.I.E.L.D’s presence at the club? So he must’ve pieced together the fact that the Agents there had been after her and the contents of the flash drive? Monroe however not admitting it by going further into detail about that, simply continuing where he’d left off before the mention of the third party tactical team apparently supervising their meeting on the sidelines as a part of their own operation, the arms dealer proving himself not quite so simpleminded as the Trafficker had falsely deemed him.

 **“At first I thought they were there for me…Despite of to this day deeming me as not important enough man connected with only common black market arms deals to intervene with my activities today suddenly deciding to put an end to my operation, but then it occurred to me… That since the data I had agreed to purchase had been stolen from them and the Agents planted inside my club couldn’t take their eyes off you the moment you arrived with the merchandise, I knew the reason for their presence was to simply recover the stolen possessions. A mere recovery mission aimed to capture you and to obtain back the data. Or you simply worked for them. Offering me this deal of acquiring the stolen data under false pretences to gain evidence that could give S.H.I.E.L.D justification to put me away unlike the local police has been able to do for the past few years…But then I realized that to be impossible. Those Agents were only interested in you and you alone…Once you disappeared with the drive forgetting all about me and my men, abandoning their posts in search of you”,** Monroe surmised, being right, which confused the woman due to the fact that he shouldn’t have been this aware of the reasons behind S.H.I.E.L.D’s attendance at the occurred skirmish at the club. The air about him and everything he said next nonetheless making it more and more seem like he had obtained such information from somewhere rather than putting it all together himself. Causing the Trafficker to even consider whether it to be possible someone from S.H.I.E.L.D to have tipped the man off, also warning them about the police raid she’d orchestrated. Naturally Monroe however not spilling the beans on that, as just kept talking after a short pause of her not responding and simply eyeing at him thoughtfully, weighing her options.

 **“I could always hand you over to them…Have them decide what to do with you once I have no further need to accommodate you, but I suspect that would hardly qualify as a real threat to someone who hasn’t been shy in antagonizing some significant players in this game we both go around playing, government agencies being the least of your worries”** , Monroe continued, as if to himself until lastly shifted his wandering gaze back to the Trafficker after beckoning at the room they were in significantly, her expression not faltering even the slightest although she wanted to raise jaded eyebrows at the man’s clear reference to himself at the end. The look in her eye however telling him to have been correct although the woman did as little as cringe at the mention of ending up delivered to the very organization that had been after her by Monroe, upon seeing this the man releasing another feigned amused snort. Tipping a head at her concurring silence upon quirking an unsurprised eyebrow, running a hand across his hair.

**“I thought not…So I suggest us to avoid lousing things up further by involving any third party participators and instead be civil about this. Talk things through, rectify this unfortunate conflict between us on our own, and then both of us can sleep our nights better with a clearer conscious…But that depends fully on you.”**

**“You knew of S.H.I.E.L.D being there?”** The Trafficker questioned, not asking because it was of actual importance but because the answer just interested her after mulling over the possible explanations to his unexpected insight of previous night’s events, Monroe looking at her remarkably again. Proving himself not to be lying as she could tell him not to be as surprised by the involvement of S.H.I.E.L.D as she would’ve expected him to be.

**“Of course I did. I would be rather poor at handling my business if I didn’t keep tabs on people at my own turf, and if Captain America himself makes an appearance and beats dozen of my men without a distinguishable explanation...It’s natural for me to assume not to be the only one who wants that drive. But if it indeed was also you who lured them there to ease your planned escape with the merchandise, it doesn’t matter. I only want the data. That is all that concerns me. So I am willing to forgive you for trying to have me dealt with by both the police and S.H.I.E.LD…Only if you give me that drive. So yes…I suppose I _am_ expecting an apology.”**

The previous exchange caused the Trafficker to think. Would Monroe really have known about the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who’d infiltrated amongst the patrons of his club? She found it unlikely, since not even she had had any idea of them being there until her partner had alerted her of their presence at the meeting place, and secondly…how would he have found out? Although Monroe’s men must’ve reported him to have seen Captain America at the scene with their own eyes, it was only after her escape and the incident at the club, and S.H.I.E.L.D made it its business not to promote their interference, without a question training their operatives to be as conspicuous as a shadow while on the mission not to be spotted by untrained eye…Especially if their goal was to recover sensitive data that could compromise their very base of operation and if they even went as far as bringing in Captain America and Iron Man to apprehend her, hence not having them storm the club and utilizing them only as tactical support outside the club, there was no way that someone like Monroe would’ve known them to be there. Unless he indeed had been warned beforehand, which would explain why he’d been able to avoid arrest by the police and was now currently standing here interrogating her, even though she’d planted the incriminating flash drive for the detectives to find and use in bringing the man to justice.

In realization of that the Trafficker gazed up at Monroe, gauging at him to find a confirmation to her suspicions. Him however now wearing that same unreadable expression which reflected of nothing he was thinking, until he then made a slight grimace upon crossing his arms over his chest. Tapping the knife against his shoulder now notably impatient as his once again hardened eyes fixated onto her, his tone accosting. Clearly starting to have enough of mincing words and the necessity to rely on assumed civility, even the woman knew him to itch to resort to his usual manner of acquiring answers, which evidence could be seen all over the floor around them. Monroe’s voice snapping her out of her brief ponder.

**“So, tell me…Where is the flash drive?”**

She said nothing. Just stared back at Monroe, tossing some loose strands from her sweaty brow with a flip of her head as her own gaze briefly moved over to Monroe’s mercenary to meet with his equally grim leer. After several seconds ticked by and she observed Monroe to wrinkle his eyebrows in irritation her releasing a sigh, relaxing on her seat as did then end the silence, however not providing the man with a reply that would’ve pleased him.

“No one said I like things civil…Which as evidenced by you isn’t all that new, is it?” she answered, switching to English as cast an earnest look at Monroe. The man reacting by silently staring back at her until his gaze turned into a half glare, him also letting out a sigh but of frustration as he measured the woman. Seeing her insisted unwillingness to cooperate, knowing nothing he’d come up with to convince her or threaten her into revealing the location of the drive. Because of this him then coming to stand in front of her his arms still crossed over his chest, gazing down at her sternly. Dousing his flared temper under a mask of composure, but his eyes were the very mirror to his soul, dark and filled with ire invoked by the Trafficker’s taunting response.

“Don’t force me to do this”, Monroe asked, both of them knowing what he was referring to and the least that he very much wanted to despite of what he claimed, but the woman only looked back at him. Still not talking, Monroe’s face twitching for hold back fury as he then beckoned to his mercenary after a brief exchange of stares with the unyielding woman. “Very well. **Do it.** ”

The Trafficker followed Monroe as he then released his arms from the fold, walking behind her to go lean against the wall and give room to the previously addressed mercenary who came over to take his place in front of her. That scowl never disappearing from his mien even his grim expression was slightly brightened then by a hint of smile as quite stereotypically to bastards like him he took pleasure in the thought of what he was about to do next. The woman simply staring at him in wait until in a brief moment of silence received a hard punch to her face, the power of the swing sending her flying backwards as the chair gave in with a creak. All relaxed Monroe’s leg however rising to receive her before she crashed down, after giving her a few quick seconds to recover from the shock of the hit shoving her back to upright position with a slight push, giving his bodyguard an opportunity to land another swing at her this time with his right fist just as she released an agonized breath. All according to the script of the scenario the woman had been expecting ever since waking up in this place, but that didn’t change the fact that those sharp knuckles kneading her face did hurt. The previous blow making a direct contact with her cheekbone and she could hear a slight cracking sound while felt her skin split open, effective or not Monroe getting his message across as the woman fell back again, in anticipation of a third punch once he straightened her. Her having not to wait but an instant as the merc’s fist did come flying at her once more, this time making contact with her brow first before brushing across her mouth. Broadening the previously formed cut, her grimacing at the given pain as her whole face went sore, her fruitlessly trying to gain control of her facial muscles in a while as she was marinated in the agony of the gained beating. Monroe’s hands this time to have caught the chair and she could feel his breath on her neck as the man eyed at her in anticipation, upon seeing her body’s natural response and taking note of her sideways tipped head assuming to have gotten through to her, seeing her pant and struggle against the rush of pain currently making her thinking harder. Casting her a remarkable look as then watched her open her eyes, setting the chair back down as then moved his hands on her shoulders. Giving them a persuasive rub before his left palm slipped upward, to move away the hair before capturing her jaw and shift her away turned head to his direction.

“You see? This is what I meant. This useless struggle for dominance through violence is highly troublesome for the both of us. Aren’t you tired of it?” Monroe questioned, narrowing his eyes at the battered woman remarkably after his gaze had flickered towards his henchman, the Trafficker following his lead with a slight raise of her bloody brow.

“That hardly tickled.”

“Why prolong this by remaining stubborn for no actual reason other than pointless bravado? Has it really ever protected anyone before? You think it protects you?” Monroe replied with a sigh, releasing her jaw as moved back in front of her, his back turned. The woman tossing her head in wonder, instantly regretting that as a sting of pain shot across her jaw. Courtesy of the broken bone, her holding back an urge to pout in discomfort as looked to Monroe.

“You tell me. I hear you’ve gone much farther with men who’ve made the mistake of remaining this kind of stubborn after daring to provoke you”, she said, Monroe raising his head in thought.

“I could do that now. But what purpose would that serve other than entertaining you to see me fail to make you talk?”

**“The very fact that you do enjoy hurting people, Mr. Monroe. Men and women alike, especially those who have stolen from you. I’ve seen the crime scene photos.”**

“Yes. I suppose I could put your theory to the test…since from the beginning of this futile discussion the dislike has become mutual.”

For the first time Monroe managed to take the Trafficker by surprise by then leaving her side after exchanging a curt glance with her. Everything about him signaling him to mean nothing less than business when he’d said that after that rather long pause he’d taken before replying, his words foreboding for a reason, as she next observed him to stride over to the rusty metal door that was the only exit out of that dungeon like space after waving the mercenary away who’d waited for the continuation of the customary beating. Knocking on it twice, inside walking two more of his men as he himself fell back to the side of the room. Pulling his own chair to the corner as then took out a cigarette case from his breast pocket, as he dumped a fag on his palm and lit it the woman bypassing the three mercenaries for a moment to send the man a doubtful look.

 **“Your best means of torture is scarring me with that? You were right, you’ll only make me crave for nicotine after too many hours of not smoking”** , she told him, hardly gaining a gaze back from the man who turned the cigarette in his hand, blowing out the smoke in his lungs upon finally looking up to her.

 **“Worry not, I can top that.** **In fact a very helpful little bird gave me a call before and told me that you would be indeed very hard to make act against your will by force, but according to the given advice would become most inclined to cooperate…if I got more creative. And who wouldn’t detest getting wet?”**

The disinclined tensing of her body gave Monroe all he needed to know without the Trafficker having to say anything and with a ghost of a satisfied smile he stared her square in the eye, suddenly confident. Knowing something she didn’t and for the first time having the unexpected hold over her, the woman frowning in bafflement at what she’d heard Monroe just say as she then followed the man to signal to his goons and immediately they returned to her field of vision. Siding her, taking hold of the chair’s backrest. Her hearing a screeching sound from behind her back as something was dragged across the floor, like she was once the men towed her to the side of the room until finally flipped her fully around forcibly. To bring her face to face with a metallic tank, filled to the rim with water.

Her jaw clenched. For actual fear as in that horrifying instant it dawned on her what was it that Monroe was planning on doing to her next, and how exactly she had ended up there. Her panicked mind reeling back to the events back at Ion and going through all the clues Monroe had given away during his earlier made remarks concerning S.H.I.E.L.D and her betrayal, only one thing popping into her mind then that explained everything perfectly. Only one person then coming to her mind who could be blamed for this situation and Monroe’s escape from the police, only one person who could’ve been this convenient informant Monroe had mentioned, her frowning in momentary disbelief as she stared down into the blackness of the water that made the tank look bottomless. The understanding of to have been betrayed herself causing her fists then to clasp around the armrests as she thought of her treacherous turned out partner, realizing that instead of leaving the scene like he’d made it seem he'd actually called Monroe and warned him about S.H.I.E.L.D and the police…And told him where to find her after she’d left the club once she’d forwarded the money to him…So that’s why he had saved her from Iron Man instead of leaving. He had just wanted to make sure Monroe got to her before she managed to make a final run for it, or before either Tony Stark or Captain America could beat the arms dealer to the chase of capturing her.

“You see this?” Monroe spoke up then, after several minutes of lasted silence and the internally frantic woman staring at the water nervously, the Trafficker shifting her head to his direction to see him finish his cigarette and rise again. Something in his hand, the man walking back under the light of the bulb while dangling something in his hand. Although her vision wasn’t all that clear due to the awkward position of her head her assuming the object to be a collar of some kind, the singular structure with a strap like fastener supporting this notion even before Monroe approached her and gave her a better view of it. The man presenting her with the device a strangely unctuous look on his face, his delivery this time around but derisive once he saw her eye at it warily, confirmed that it truly was a collar. Upon examining her the man in fact noticing her to possibly even recognize it, as he’d expected, if not to have actually seen it before.

“This is something a certain associate of mine came up with while developing something that would make their…creations more compliant. A device to be used to control his more rebellious experiments, the kind of lab rats you should have come across while still included into the dealings of your family... Enhanced people. Wretched curs who because of their uncanny quirks think they’re not any lesser than dogs, and whose singularity needed to be…stifled for their own good. Well in the long run the invention although highly effective turned out useless against the most unique of the freaks they cooked up in their lab…So the intellects working for me modified it after getting their hands on it, and after the made changes I’ve found a more practical use for it”, Monroe explained. The woman indeed finding the device familiar, as reckoned to have seen something similar before, but before she could think on her arisen assumptions she cringed uncomfortably as Monroe pushed a certain button on a compact capsule attached to the collar. Apparently activating it, the woman seeing it turn on with a significant flash of green, the slight hum coming from the device confirming it even before the collar was next placed around her neck. The Trafficker flinching now more forcibly once Monroe himself put it on her, clicking it in place with metallic clasps that set together with a distinct sound of an electric lock jamming shut, after frowning at the odd sounds coming from the contraption the woman releasing a surprised yelp as suddenly she could feel two sharp jabs on both sides of her neck. Indicating something to have impaled her, to have pushed out of the collar to further secure it in place, and as she glanced down she did eventually see two more trails of blood to drip down her skin as it trickled onto her chest. Her blinking in bafflement until in given confusion glared down at the collar, wriggling against her bonds to get it off her, before leered up at visibly arrogant Monroe. The man tilting an apologetic head at her as she followed him now fetch something from a shelf that stood beside the chair he’d sat in, it revealing to be a remote of some kind. With a nod one of his men moving over to her to do something with the collar, after a couple of presses opening a hatch of some kind which covered a set of hidden buttons. The merc typing in some type of a code at the same time as Monroe did the same with the remote until both of them let out a loud beeping sound, causing the arms dealer to level a content smile at the addled woman.

“It’s not comfortable, I know. But it never was created to be so”, Monroe said, the woman scoffing as for the further bafflement the mercenary then opened the clasps that kept her wrists secured down to the armrests, setting her free. Her however knowing better than jump to her feet and run for the doorway, when those three mercenaries had their guns within reach. Even Monroe carrying one, tucked under the hem of his shirt.

 _“What is this?”_ she asked, even more unnerved by the combined threat of the water tank in front of her and the peculiar device stuck to her neck, despite of just being briefed on the nature of the device. Her however remaining clueless of the reason why would the man have her wear such a thing when she was by no means special nor “enhanced” as he’d referred to people this collar apparently had been made for.

“I told you. The very tool to make you talk”, Monroe answered, tensely. The man walking over to her, taking support of the armrest as pointed at the collar with the remote, locking significant gazes with her. “This collar has been modified to be an ultimate restraint…A device that affects the natural gravity directed at it within the gravitational field, manipulating it. So whatever is attached to it, is getting pulled to the very center of the earth with unimaginable force…Shall I demonstrate?”

The Trafficker’s eyes widened, in too slow realization and she could only straighten herself in her seat before Monroe’s men took hold of her shoulders and arms. Monroe turning some kind of a controller on the remote before the woman heard another deep once he pushed another button, apparently an on switch, as in the same moment she felt her to be influenced by an uncontrollable force that begun to pull her straight down into the tank of water. Her having no control over the movement and she experienced but a rush of dread as her head plunged into the water with a huge splash, the panic of having the heavy become collar drag her with it into the tank so easily added to the overwhelming fear of being underwater that was so familiar to her. Despite of knowing better her taking in water as in her sudden frenzy her instinctive reaction was to drag in a breath of air, instead swallowing the very liquid she fought against as she instantly proceeded to struggle against the power of the collar that had dragged her to the very bottom of the rather deep tank. The device indeed weighing her down like an anchor, not budging no matter how much she tried to force her head above water, uselessly trying to lever herself back up with her arms that had shot to take support of the tank’s edge. For no avail, for her horror her finding herself utterly trapped under the surface, her hands now releasing their vice like grip of the tank and pushing underwater as well, her fingers hurrying to try to pry the contraption loose to free her of the terrifying experience she was undergoing. However the clasp holding, stuck together like the strongest magnet, the Trafficker starting to feel the lack of air to burn in her chest the more she now strove to be released. However within a mere half a minute, but which had felt several to her Monroe signaling his men to pull her up. Him returning the settings of the collar back to normal, the woman releasing a relieved breath despite of the water once more invading her lungs as she felt the pull to decrease. Her feeling a pair of coarse hands to take hold of her and yanking her upward, Monroe nodding his men to let go of her as he watched her to collapse against the tank’s edge in a series of furious coughs. The woman emptying her lungs as leant her forehead against the tank, once more grasping to it as felt the familiar tremor to set in her limbs. As a proof of her fear, it still not releasing her even after getting pulled out of the tank, Monroe watching her triumphantly as she took a moment to pull herself together, evening her ragged breathing, coming in terms with the fear surging in her veins until it dissipated. Enough for her to sit back up, her hands grabbing the collar again, in dismay, even though she knew perfectly well knew it to be pointless to try to get it off.

“It seems that little bird was right”, Monroe mused, observant, pleased that the helpful caller who’d ratted the woman out and advised him to use water as an interrogation technique had not been lying to him after all. Clearly seeing her terror of the previous dip in the water, him now leaning downward to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder again, brushing the drenched locks glued to her face away gently. “Make it easy for yourself. Tell me what I need to know.”

For a brief moment she was tempted to tell him, to save her from ending up plunged back into that tank, but after remembering why she’d made sure him not to get his hands on the drive in the first place she simply took in a deep breath. Not looking at him, but simply straightened her posture, inclining her head wordlessly. Monroe’s hand retreating with a slight cringe, him flexing his fingers as if in an attempt to hold himself back from hitting her, but his anger did get the best of him. In a blink if an eye his hand then moving over to the back of her head, grasping a fistful of her hair to get a secure hold of her to bash her forehead against the rim of the tank. The sound of the woman’s agonized wail causing him to haul her head back up, blood trickling from the formed sideways ulcer clouding the Trafficker’s vision as she once again tried to bypass the surge of pain. It radiating down to her already aching cheek and making it worse, her closing her eyes as tried to focus her brain, shift it away from encompassing solely the smarting of her injuries as Monroe released her with a fitful jerk of his hand. Her hearing him shuffle on his spot as impatiently as ever, her turning her head slightly to see him nod at one of his observing men who then took the turn of grabbing her. Forcing her head underwater before she could even take in much of a breath, the increased weight of the collar around her neck soon preventing her from rising and dragged her down to the bottom again, her feeling water to splash all over her as in a couple of minutes she started to feel the burn in her chest again. Despite of her previous attempt of psyching herself to get through this without giving in to her fears for the delight of Monroe pure dread welling up again and kicking in her survival instinct, driving her to ferociously wriggle against her restraint that kept her submerged. After beholding her struggle against mere gravity far longer from before thanks to Monroe’s rise of a hand once his men had made an attempt of bringing her back up to get air, the woman was finally pulled upright. Just as last ounce of air had been about to run out and she had begun to panic over her drowning in just a manner of seconds, the pull on the collar disappearing and she was brought up. Her lungs practically convulsing as they immediately tried to suck in air, however the great amount of water she’d swallowed instantly bursting out of her system in a series of endless, painful coughs. The pressure in her chest lifting, but leaving behind a dull ache in the very lungs which now were offered an unconstrained flow of air again, her however not being able to stop coughing even long after she’d managed to wretch out all of the consumed water. Monroe’s voice then waking her attention.

“Just give me the data, and I’ll end this. I might be a vicious scoundrel as you imply, but in matters such as these I am a man of my word…believe me. So please…give me what I want, and I shall reward you by letting you walk away from this, alive. You can keep your life, even keep the money. I have no need for those millions. I just want the data. I just want that flash drive.”

“Why? Fear for your own life if you don’t manage to obtain it back from me? Aren’t _you getting tired_ of pleading with me?” the Trafficker taunted, disjointedly due to the coughs making it hard for her to speak. Perhaps hitting the nail at least slightly on the head as she could practically see Monroe snap at the sound of her comment, a telltale of her being at least partially right. Before she could manage a smile however Monroe then abruptly siding her again, in a flash taking another fistful of her soaked locks into his grip and jerked her backwards. Painfully forcing the strands back and setting her scalp on momentary fire, the woman wincing as the blood dripping to her eyes and the bright light once again shining directly at her caused her to blink furiously. Making it impossible for her to read Monroe’s expression, but his aggressive constitution was all it took for her to know the man’s patience to have finally fully worn out, this time without even bothering to tune the collar the man pushing her underwater without a warning just as she’d started to catch her breath again. Bringing her back up shortly, his accosting words filled with fury echoing loudly even from the brick walls surrounding them.

“ **Where is the flash drive!?”**

“ **Not here, obviously”** , the Trafficker spluttered, just like before her lungs struggling to function for the abrupt flow of air after she’d churned out the inhaled water. Her taking large mouthfuls greedily during those few seconds her head was kept above water until she once more heard Monroe to shift angrily and she felt his hold to tighten, in order to submerge her again.

 **“So where is it?”** Monroe demanded impatiently, at his wits end, forcing himself to listen. Her following reply however only causing him to go mad, the arms dealer deciding to put an end to her further toying with him upon realizing to be only wasting his time as he wasn’t going to get what he wanted from her. Only prolonging her miserable life as well in hopes of achieving that.

**“In proper hands. You’ll never see that drive again.”**

In a rush of blinding rage Monroe then strode forth, forcing her head back underwater, but before fired up the gravitational modifier of the collar pushing her even further into the tank from before. Roughly keeping her head down as used his free arm to hamper her body’s natural response to wriggle against his hold which had caused her to fully bend over the edge of the tank and sink into the water all the way down to her back. The man lingering a moment to simply watch and take pleasure in seeing her languish in the lack of air, her legs uselessly sliding on the floor in an attempt to lever herself up now that the collar wasn’t keeping her submerged, her kicking away the chair as challenged her leftover strength against Monroe’s, who however had a hold over her. After a long moment of simply following her begin to drown the arms dealer finally switching on the collar and for the horror of the woman she found herself pinned down to the bottom of the tank again. Her eyes widening in panic as once more her fingers moved over to the device to claw it off of her, scraping her skin instead, blood and her hair clouding her vision as her body continued to squirm ferociously. The dread pumping in her veins with adrenaline not even paralyzing her that moment, as all she could think was the need to get out of that tank before she ran out of air. Minutes passing and Monroe showing no signs of bringing her back up, only ordering his men to quiet down as they suggested her to be taken out of the tank. Her last reply to him to have finally been enough to anger him profusely, and resulting in him apparently deciding to kill her. In the end her not being able to stop herself from being enveloped by a total state of panic as the air continued to decrease, her starting to feel her struggle to weaken bit by bit. Upon seeing the wriggling of the woman to begin to lessen the three mercenaries beginning to glance between the drowning woman and their boss, who’d abandoned her and went back to sit on the chair across the room. Hesitant, realizing them to have not much time left, until finally they saw her to suddenly slacken. Only a few slight twitches of her limbs telling there to be still some life left in her, but otherwise she then utterly stopped struggling. Too tired to do so, the woman’s vision blurring and the burning of her lungs took the best of her, too filled with water for her to keep on fighting against the overpowering sense of numbness that had continued to spread the longer she was trapped underwater, and although her mind wouldn’t have let her to her body gave up. Her losing consciousness, the mercenary standing closest to her then shoving her slightly with his foot, watching her to remain still and not respond to his touch.

“Boss?” he called, walking closer to the languid woman and after eyeing at her for a moment took her hand, feeling her wrist. What he discovered causing him to frown and turn to face Monroe when he hadn’t reacted to him addressing him. “Boss…She’s not breathing.”

“Obviously”, Monroe stated, hardly concerned as bettered his position on the chair shortly before rose and strode over to his bodyguard and the unconscious prisoner, bringing a fresh cigarette to his lips. His own eyes settling upon the Trafficker as he took in her still and unresponsive state with an unconcerned tilt of his head, then taking out the remote and shut down the collar before the mercenary hauled the woman out of the tank. Bringing a set of fingers to feel the pulse from her neck, not finding it.

“She’s done for.”

“We have no need for her. She might as well die since she was stupid enough to rather throw her life away than giving up the drive like some sort of a hero. We’ll just have to find it ourselves”, Monroe said grimly, directing the drowned woman an exasperated leer before leveled it at his bodyguard. Monroe squinting at him, as the man straightened, looking unsure.

“But we have no idea where she hid the data. She’s practically a ghost, we know nothing about her nor her associates who could be holding onto the drive for her. We’ll never find it without the information she could’ve told us”, the merc answered, tensely as well, earning himself another seething glare thanks to his incredulous tone of voice, which however then mellowed down to a mere irritation as the arms dealer replied. Somewhat remarkable edge in his voice as his eyes once more fixated onto the drowned woman.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Monroe got robbed of a chance to explain himself as all of a sudden they could hear an unexpected clamor coming from outside, the mercenary forgetting all about the woman and dropped her back into the water. Sound of gunshots fired interrupting the arms dealer and he and his three men turned towards the door behind they could then hear several cries of pain and angered hollers, mixed in with distinct thuds and commands to stand down. Monroe’s henchmen immediately taking out their guns after being alerted to the presence of apparent intruders as after a short while of listening to the sounds of a clear altercation broken out between Monroe’s men and whoever was trying to get in, something crashed against the door that separated them from the ongoing skirmish. It then opening, Monroe’s men surrounding him and pointing their weapons at the person now stumbling inside the room. It however proving to be one of Monroe’s bodyguards that had been tasked to guard the door, pried of his weapons, casting a somewhat disoriented look at his boss and fellow mercs until the reason for his fuzzy state of mind was explained by a flash of red and blue that made fast contact with the back of his head. Monroe and his men following in dismay as the man fell face down onto the floor, out cold, familiar looking shield dropping not far from his immobile body until before the arms dealer or his mercenaries could realize what was happening inside ran a man. Captain America charging inside to retrieve his shield, focusing on Monroe and his guards who then recognized him, aiming their guns at him. However before they could fire Natasha entering the room and attacking the man closest to Steve, with a limber somersault closing the distance between herself and the African man, until incapacitated him with a single strike. Steve’s eyes never leaving Monroe as Clint and a group consisting of their fellow Agents and local police officers stormed inside, while Clint took care of the other mercenary and the last remaining man was taken down by both him and Natasha, Steve confronting Monroe who panicked. Dropping his cigarette upon drawing his own gun, only to have it pried from his grip by a sharp swing of Steve’s shield, him reaching taken aback Monroe with a couple of strides, and before he could retaliate rammed his shield against him with a swift twirl. Sending the man flying backwards, and once givenly disoriented Monroe tried to rise to challenge the super soldier, Steve simply landed a third strike of his shield on his stomach. Causing Monroe to curl up due to the pain, defeated.

“Don’t get up”, Steve ordered, earning himself a scowl from the arms dealer, who however realized to have been bested, although he clearly couldn’t understand how Steve and his entourage had found him. Natasha’s voice however causing Steve to shift his focus from Monroe who was now getting cuffed by the accompanied detectives to his teammates, Steve turning around to watch how Natasha and Clint were standing beside a tank of water, their arms cradling an unconscious woman he then instantly realized to be their target who’d apparently been subjected to water torture before they’d entered Monroe’s lair. Saying a curse only in his mind Steve hurrying over to them as Natasha and Clint hauled the woman out of the water, laying her down onto the floor, as the officers started to escort Monroe and his goons towards the police cars waiting outside along with their supervisor. Steve coming to stand next to Natasha as she next checked the Trafficker for any signs of life after discovering her not to move, the tense, remarkable frown Steve then saw to harden her face causing him to cast a concerned look down at the woman, already knowing what Natasha was going to say before she even turned to face him. He’d seen that look many times before on battlefield.

“She’s not breathing. She’s swallowed a ton of water”, she informed him, Clint in turn bending over the woman to touch her, finding her to be still warm.

“We were too late. Monroe dealed with her just before we came in.”

“She can’t die”, Steve replied, as aware as everyone within his team S.H.I.E.L.D to want her delivered alive, for this reason him exchanging a serious look with Natasha. “She needs to be brought back alive. Only she knows where the stolen data is.”

“I know that, Steve. But she’s dead.”

“We have to do something! Fury will kill us if we return back empty handed”, Agent Keller cut in suddenly, arriving to the scene after shoving last of Monroe’s mercs out of the room and joining his comrades. To behold the manhandled woman, giving her an incredulous gaze.

“Are you sure she’s dead?” Agent Callagher asked, holstering his gun as Clint mimicked Natasha by checking her pulse, giving the grotesque and most definitely odd looking collar around the woman’s neck an odd look.

“She is. There’s no pulse. We came too late.”

Steve acted before he even realized it, striding over to Natasha and drove him away from beside the Trafficker as took her place. Dropping down his shield as then immediately leaned over the woman, for the surprise of his teammates starting to resuscitate her after giving the wounds and scrapes on her faces a stern, inspecting look. Now thankful of the mandatory first-aid course he’d been made to attend after starting his service at S.H.I.E.L.D, although he hadn’t been completely clueless of the means to help the wounded thanks to his partake in the World War. Refusing to accept them to have arrived just a moment too late Steve continuing to revive the woman, in taught turns giving her artificial respiration before pressing her chest to get the water out. After a moment of repeating the phases a few times them however not working, Clint continuing to stare at the collar stuck to her neck, and an idea dawned on him.

“It’s that thing around her neck…She can’t breathe with it”, he mused, causing Steve to halt in middle of once more forcing air into the woman’s filled lungs, Natasha then also giving the peculiar contraption a gauging look. Finding it securely fastened to the woman, swiftly realizing it to be impossible to force the lock open with a couple of yanks after trying to fry the circuits of the device. Even striking against it with the butt of her own gun.

“The lock seems very tough to crack. I can’t get it open in time”, she stated, also Steve stopping his doings to gaze at the collar, his eyes then shifting over to his shield as he listened to the Agents’ observations about the object according to which it was impossible for them to unfasten. Clint’s eyes then locating the remote, and although unsure he took it in his hand and tried to find the right button to open the lock, to have seen Monroe hold it before he’d been taken down by Steve.

“Nothing is working. This is probably what Monroe used to control it, but we can’t unfasten it by using this”, Clint stated regardless of to have seen some lights to lit up at the press of some buttons, also Natasha giving it a try, where realizing there not to be a single second anymore to lose Steve reclaimed his shield. Turning the woman around before raising it, steadying his arm to not to miss his target before for the further surprise of Natasha and Clint used the same method as Natasha earlier, raising the shield to hit the collar. Once again the metal his shield had been made out of proving itself superior beyond anything in this world when due to a single strike the collar broke, the electromagnetic lock giving in under the pressure and came off. Clint immediately yanking the object off of the woman, Steve frowning slightly in disgust at the sight of the needles that had helped to keep the collar secure around her neck, but then immediately rolled the woman onto her back again. Restarting the recovery measures, and for the relief of the team after a short moment the woman did come to, surprisingly. Steve feeling her suddenly to twitch as she coughed the first batch of the water directly against his lips during his last attempt of giving her air, in honest surprise after the amount of time the target had remained unconscious Steve retreating and watching her to briefly open her eyes to cast a wandering gaze at him and his teammates, before the violent coughs forced her to focus on churning out the water. After laboriously finishing coughing up everything her giving herself a moment to learn to breathe again, struggling after the previous minutes of being dead, after a while her however getting over her disorientation once she realized someone to be leaned over her. The woman sensing the several people occupying the room with her, her turning her head haggardly in order to next cast a confused look up at Steve from between her cracked eyelids. Her eyesight focusing on his mask covered face slowly, and before she could realize who he was Steve ended the befallen silence, to have witnessed her difficulty to breathe.

“It’s alright. Just breathe. Breathe”, he told her, watching the woman to wrinkle her forehead at his words as her momentary blinded eyes blinked furiously, trying to see him, until he leaned in closer and blocked the light of the lamp. After a short exchange of stares and Steve seeing a flicker of realization in her irises when she’d taken his presence and apparent turn of events in, him noticing her to look a little chagrined after indeed finally realizing who he was by the sight of his uniform. The Trafficker then opting to simply lie there silently with a sigh after glancing at the people surrounding them and fathoming to have been apparently saved by the out of nowhere appeared Captain America and his team of S.H.I.E.L.D Agents. Her however being the least happy about it, since although the Captain had saved her from dying in the hands of that moron Monroe, by doing so he’d merely made her a prisoner. Which in her current opinion as she laid there utterly drained, practically still half dead as she felt, was as bad as her previous painful act of drowning…And definitely something she hadn’t asked for.


	3. No Qualms Among the Callous

“What were you thinking, Captain? Revealing yourselves to the public and involving numerous civilians when the only requirement of your operation was to act in secrecy and keep your activities fully under wraps, especially from local authorities!”

Steve straightened his posture as wrapped his arms behind his back, his gaze rising to meet with Chief Lombart’s. The agitated man gauging at him with what it appeared a whole new resolve of both Steve and his capabilities while tried to keep his cool, although Steve could see clear as day him to be seething with dissatisfaction after the review of his given report about the mission in Port Elizabeth. Regardless of the seriousness of the situation it however even amusing Steve a little to see the man flip back and forth between the pages of the folder so impetuously between casting him incredulous glances from behind his glasses. Steve tilting a slight head at him as pursued to explain himself, despite of to have already relayed the events of the close to failed mission to him but a moment prior in addition to the Chief to have been able to read all the details from the file, going through the account one more time in form of replies to Lombart’s taut questions.

“The circumstances of the time forced our hand, sir. Regardless of usually operating on her own the Trafficker had unexpected outside help in escaping and Monroe complicated matters for his part by having his own men go after our target, leaving us with no other choice but to reveal ourselves to him. We had to engage with his mercenaries out in the open in order to stop him from interfering with the capture of the target”, Steve explained, watching how Chief Lombart flashed a humorless smile down at the file in his hand which he then shut briskly, in turn inclining a head at him as arched his eyebrows at Steve, although everything about his mien signaled him to be far from entertained by the situation.

“Yes, from a man in drag”, the Chief stated, mostly to himself in uttermost sarcasm, but which hardly was utilized to express his amusement once his gaze once again roamed about the earnest faced Captain. The man turning fully around to see Steve correct his posture while confronted with the Chief of Operations, the visibly everything but pleased man next narrowing his eyes at the Captain as a challenge, hardly curious despite of his following inquiry which was meant to only further bring out his disappointment, for that reason repeating himself for far too much to Steve’s liking and ever thinning patience. “And how did all that turn out then? Your task was to apprehend the target in secret without any outer parties knowing of your presence, and despite of that you went ahead and decided to reveal yourself not only to Monroe but to the local police force, and didn’t simply let them in on the purpose of your mission, but requested their assistance?”

Steve deterred an urge to sigh, momentarily looking away from Chief Lombart as went for a neutral tone not to let his frustration to his these type of over-exaggerated lectures show, glancing at his silent fellow Agents behind him furtively. “We did not tell them the purpose behind our desire to apprehend her, only what they needed to know to gain their support after getting embroiled with their raid of the club, sir. They believed we were interested in the woman only due to her affiliation with Monroe, and joining forces with them was the fastest way to find him and recover the target. He had taken her to his hiding before we managed to bring her in ourselves, so time was of the essence, and by necessity I made the only call there was to make. The local police had been after Monroe for years, and had a better knowledge of the location of his hideouts than we had time to uncover ourselves…Proven that should we not have gained assistance from them in finding him, the target would’ve been killed by him.”

“And how was that possible? How did it occur that you so happened to walk into a simple police raid right when our target was attempting an escape from Monroe’s club?” Chief Lombart asked, voice dripping of disbelief as he stared at Steve, waiting for an explanation that would sit well with him although Steve knew nothing would, especially when the man had been perfectly informed of _how_ it had happened. Him just wanting to chaff him by rubbing their supposed failure in with his indignant attitude, for this reason Steve only opting to shake his head after a slight silence and locked more tense gazes with him.

“I do not know, sir.”

“You do, because I do too. She arranged it all to create a hole which to slip through while you and Monroe were both too distracted by her gimmicks to notice the trap she’d set around you. And with your experience I expected more of you Captain. I had thought your time not only in the war but months spent as part of our missions to have trained you to spot such setups from far away long before triggering them with an input of your own, but I stand corrected.”

“These are different times, sir”, Steve stated back diplomatically although Lombart’s previous comment had had a more personal effect on him, earning himself a concurring raise of the Chief’s brows which only added to his welled up grievance. Reminding him of the reason why he had never liked the man, nor found it easy to have only him to answer to if he wasn’t taking orders from either Agent Coulson or Director Fury himself.

“Clearly.”

“With all due respect sir, we had no reason to believe her to have planned the raid until we learned of the double cross she performed over Monroe and managed to locate the false flash drive she’d prepared beforehand to provide evidence for the arrived police she’d set up to come arrest Monroe”, Steve replied then, now even a bit openly annoyed by the Chief’s ever so crude conduct, although didn’t let it show other than as an irritated streak between his own lightly knitted eyebrows to not to let his discontent to edge too much to the direction of what would’ve been considered insubordination back in his army days… Which the man obviously however picked up and tried to top off with a grim look leveled at him, indeed reminding Steve of a somber faced military officer as Lombart took a step back as assumed that familiar authoritative countenance which signaled his unquestioned superiority to Steve now that he was in the service of S.H.I.E.L.D, the famed American hero and revered World War II veteran or not. Making it clear with a single look that even if Steve was the world’s first and only super soldier ergo Director Fury’s favorite go to guy in saving the world even in the tiniest degree, it all amounted to nothing if he didn’t perform well in the Chief’s eyes. And because of the very cape of the world’s first known superhero that throughout the decades of Steve’s slumber had been placed on his shoulders and which now he was forced to carry after his awakening, the man’s expectations of Steve had always been unreasonable, and mostly by personal choice and not only formed by Steve’s own reputation as the Symbol of the Nation.

“But you should’ve. While heading out on this mission you knew of her reputation and how elusive of a character she was to be so fatuously underestimated, so you should’ve prepared for any kind of a counterforce she undoubtedly had planned in case of her compromised escape. Which makes me wonder about the fact how despite of all this and after getting conned by her himself, Monroe still managed to overcome your whole team of well trained S.H.I.E.L.D agents by getting hold of her first, even it was your sole job to catch her, and when not only Captain America himself but Iron Man also were on the scene to aid in her capture? She may’ve been slippery as an oiled eel, but all of you were more than well-briefed to counter that without letting the situation escalate as far as it did. You slipped up, Captain.”

“Well she’s now here, isn’t she?” Steve simply answered bluntly, although certain snappy remarks were about to roll off his tongue holding himself back as knew from previous experience counter arguments to do nothing but vex the Chief more. None he would say to be able to affect his negative views of him and this mission which had once again greatly derailed in his opinion, therefore Steve simply standing there listening, taking in the reproachful delivery that at times bordered close to subtle insults even without much sharing his real thoughts with the Chief. He was his supervisor after all, and agreed Steve with him or not, he had been responsible of leading the team, and so he had to admit not all Chief Lombart had said to have been untrue. Steve to have had a hand in letting the operation to develop a couple of unexpected turns, although mostly the transpired events had been out of his control, the ruin of Stark’s suit for example the moment he’d been about to catch the Trafficker.. But pointing out such facts hardly would’ve mattered to Chief Lombart as they never had, since the team leader was accountable for even the tiniest made mistakes, confirmed by Lombart’s following response which showed no mercy. Painting a picture of a man far too concerned than there actually was reason to be, at least not enough to keep on insisting to reprimand Steve like a school boy who’d broken the classroom window.

“Yes, but although accomplished, your mission nevertheless was everything but a success…Perhaps I overestimated your capacity in taking upon a management of a mission all on your own, Captain, even Director Fury seemed to think you to be not only ready but entitled to it due to your previous, beyond commendable service to this country despite of my caveats... After all the times have gravely changed as you said, Captain, and the strategies to survive on modern battlefields differ greatly from the ones you must’ve been accustomed to employ back in the day…As do the battlefields.”

There were once more a few selected words Steve would’ve liked to counter with, as by now everything that came out of Chief Lombart’s mouth sounded mere derision, but he bit back the acrid comments. Like before facing the man with a composed expression with but a hint of pique, tilting a complying head to satisfy the man as briefly cast his eyes down in feigned regret that was expected of him whenever the Chief had supposed cause to be displeased with him. His tone as restrained as his mien. “My apologies, sir.”

“Well? What about the data?” Chief Lombart asked then, in his usual manner bypassing Steve’s apology, although it hadn’t even been a real one. This time around raising his jaw disgruntled Steve arching wondering eyebrows, releasing his arms from the fold and let them drop to his sides. In preparation to exit this conversation once Lombart’s body language signaled him to be equally bored with their exchange, planning to turn around and head towards the door.

“Still in the wind, sir.”

Chief Lombart sighed at that, Steve following him to raise a fleeting hand to scratch the side of his face until his focus was back on Steve again, Lombart’s demanding gaze drilling into his, his voice not any less accosting as it then ended the short silence that had taken over the briefing room. None of the other people also present in the room either now saying anything, leaving the talking to their team leader and their supervisor. “Then make sure you squeeze the location out of her. _Immediately_. The longer the flash drive remains out of our grasp the risk of it falling into the wrong hands again grows, and _all_ of you know what it means if someone else like her sets their sights on the data on the drive. So find it.”

The last bit Chief Lombart had said to the whole team, to those present at least, since some of the team members had bailed the minute they’d been called to the briefing room by Lombart, where Natasha for one had gone to report directly to Director Fury. Hence explaining her absence from the room, now at least Steve having not to shoulder all of Lombart’s anger alone as his hard gaze now swept across the faces of the silent people sitting around the table, and after receiving an understanding nod back from each of them, including Steve, the man reclaimed the file he’d abandoned on the nearby chair and headed for the door. Half relieved half frustrated sighs accompanying his departure, and once the Chief was out of earshot by the sound of his footsteps Agent Callagher scoffed. Leering at the doorway.

“It’s so easy to get pissed off by not following the bloody plan to a t when you’re not actually there undergoing the operation”, she snapped, earning herself a concurring look from Agent Keller who stretched his arms above his head while Steve gave them a fleeting look of agreement. Watching the Agents begin to rise from their selective seats and also head for the exit. “We got the job done, so what’s the problem?”

“No matter what we’d do it would never be enough for Lombart. Just leave him, the guy knows nothing about real field work since he’s always here conducting the missions instead of joining them”, Keller remarked, Agent Harvey staring at the young man in grave disbelief.

“And you do, boy, after just one day on the field?”

“Agent Lombart has been working for S.H.I.E.L.D for ten years, Keller. He’s earned his keep and a right to give himself some serious airs for a reason, so don’t do the mistake of calling him a mere paper-pusher”, Clint cut in as sided the young Agent who replied with a flabbergasted look, Callagher releasing an incredulous laugh as strode past them.

“That still doesn’t give him the right to breathe down our necks all the time about everything.”

“Um, yeah. Yeah it does”, Clint argued, only half jonkingly. “Didn’t you just hear him? Like backtalking to an actual god.”

“Agent Barton is correct. Chief Lombart is what he is, but he’s a great Agent”, Steve told them, once again diplomatically, as it had been established him not to like the man for his everything but agreeable personality, but he also didn’t know him all that well. Not his history nor merits he’d gotten under his belt while working for S.H.I.E.L.D, only knowing that whatever he’d done had certainly entitled him to the position he’d been given as the Chief of Operations, but also as Deputy Director of S.H.I.EL.D’s Washington division…And in the still quite short period of time Steve had been part of this modern society he hadn’t neither had the time to familiarize himself with his superiors, at least well enough to know from which each background they came. And same was to be said about his co-workers too…Besides of going to a handful of missions with them as one of the newest members who’d been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D, Steve hadn’t really gotten the chance to get to know any of them, and rather not the desire to do so. For even after seven months of living in this strange day and age, he wasn’t even near of getting accustomed to all the mindboggling changes that had taken place during his 70 years of sleep, nor feeling like trying to really fit into it either…His yearning for all that he’d lost was still too great and brought too much anguish to him, so to make the decision of letting go of everything that but a few months ago had been familiar to him would be like pouring salt over his still very fresh wounds…The memory of the life stolen from him by the cruel quirk of fate still too much of a sore spot for him to try and make himself a new one here, starting with actual companionships…So what Agent Romanoff had said about them being his only real friends, didn’t quite apply either.

“You shouldn’t take such bullshit from him”, Clint spoke then, waking Steve from his wistful, deep ponders and he shifted his head to level a quizzical look at the Agent until his momentarily absent mind processed his words.

“If I don’t, he’ll keep giving more to me…Just trying to survive in this new day and age.”

“They may have been generous enough to pluck you out of the ice, but that doesn’t make you accountable in obediently listening to him henpeck at you for every single humane error”, Clint remarked, shortly leaning against a backrest of one of the chairs as studied Steve to see his response, the taller man seeming to agree but simply tilted his head meekly.

“If I bite the hand that feeds me, Lombart will make sure I’ll find myself from the doghouse…Fury’s trump card or not.”

“Always the perfect soldier, huh?” Clint questioned, or more like mused as his eyes visited the floor until rose back to now openly amused Steve, the man flashing him a brief smile.

“When it suits others.”

“Well, we all know and acknowledge that the Chief is an asshole….A great Agent as you say, but still a prick in a Hermés suit.”

“Hey. You should respect your supervisors”, Steve responded, in feigned chastising manner as then himself made a move towards the exit, causing Clint to smile in turn and he gazed out of the briefing room’s wall sized window until faced the super soldier again. Cocking his own head at his words upon straightening.

“Only when it suits me…Anyways, you did good, Cap.”

As Clint walked by he placed a fleeting hand on Steve’s shoulder before going on his way to exit the room first, Steve’s voice however stopping him and he turned to see the Captain eyeing at the spots he’d been zapped by the Trafficker during their fight.

“Barton…How are the wounds?”

“If you even can call them that…Well, she didn’t skimp with the current and bruised me good, but if she really wanted to hurt me she would’ve used a real gun instead.”

That statement surprised Steve somewhat, but he didn’t think of it much as then watched Clint wave a hand at him before leaving. Steve then halting during his own intent to follow as fell into his musings, them crisscrossing from one thought to another in a swift rush which soon was regrettably mixed in with his disorderly emotions that he had found himself trying his hardest to push back. Him beginning to feel that familiar ball of anxiety to begin to manifest at the pit of his stomach and his mind reeled closer to the edge of more somber ponders again when it conjured up brief memory of Bucky and Peggy, until he brought himself back from such pining recollections and took the step that led him to the door. Walking to the corridor, his mind then shifting to the matters just discussed within the briefing room and now gaining something else to think about he then found himself to be walking along that corridor. Not to head for the exit of the agency to go home and resume his try of a normal life but going the other way, crossing the hallway to turn a corner, walking over to the elevators that would take him to the lower levels of the bureu…Which didn’t consist of simple offices, conference rooms, exercise-and training spaces and lounges as did the majority of the building, but very much like any bureu of secretive nature housed the few floors meant for underground labs, logistics, and other premises used for interrogating and lodging possible prisoners…Such as the Trafficker.

Steve was alone as he stepped into the elevator, the doors closing in shortly as he pressed a hand onto a hidden panel next to the ordinary buttons that offered access to the known floors of the building, opening it before typing in the series of numbers that signaled one of the undisclosed floors he wanted to descend down to. With a tell-taling sound of the request to have been received the panel closing, the familiar female voice speaking up from above him, confirming the given command.

_“The sub-level, interrogation department.”_

The elevator begun to move, the female voice continuing to inform him of the names of the passed floors during his short descend down. The elevator going straight down without any stops on the way, but once he reached the right floor and the doors re-opened to give him access inside the room opening before him he was surprised to see Director Fury there. The man standing his back turned towards the arrived Captain at the other side of the space that sided the first interrogation room out of many riddling the corridor, his focus remaining on the prisoner currently held inside. Fury not reacting once Steve entered and begun to walk towards him to join him by the window with one-sided view within the room, but there was no doubt about the man to be fully aware of his presence even before Steve begun to speak. Bringing an end to Fury’s private musings.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, sir”, Steve spoke, honestly surprised as he hadn’t known Fury to be at Washington D.C at all. Finally the eye-patched man acknowledging his arrival by just slightly angling his head to Steve’s direction, his focus however never shifting from the prisoner.

“She’s a far too interesting an animal not to come marvel over with my own eye.”

Steve couldn’t hold back an incredulous quirk of his eyebrow as came to Fury’s side, his attention as well then drawn to the Trafficker, who was simply sitting in the bare room. Alone, his voice then highly incredulous as he now behold the battered woman who didn’t seem all that remarkable while replied, despite of the Director’s quite curious tone thinking at least the man to have not used the word “rare” while referring to her just now. “Is she really?”

“You tell me, Captain. I was told she proved a challenge for you in bringing her in…although that shouldn’t have been at all unexpected.”

Steve was silent for a moment as tried to come up with a reply, words eluding him due to Fury’s similar kind of conduct which Chief Lombart had utilized while questioning him about the mission. However since there had been no actual accusation in the Director’s remark Steve allowing himself to relax, crossing his arms over his chest as leant against the table that sat behind him. His eyes after glancing at the once more silenced man by his side then returning back to the prisoner, now noticing a pile of folders that had been placed on the table by the Trafficker was also lounging. Steve giving them a baffled look as answered, where the woman didn’t seem at all curious about them. Perhaps not even noticing them.

“We had some issues.”

“I heard. And I’m sure Chief Lombart was more than adamant about our stand in that”, Fury said, in turn glancing at Steve from the corner of his seeing eye and saw him to make a face that had frustration written all over it. Understanding his reaction, since saying Chief Lombart to be a very challenging individual to deal with would’ve been an understatement.

“His at least”, Steve stated, Fury turning his head further to look at him in his usual serious manner while his replying voice next rivarled Lombart in staidness.

“We need that flash drive.”

“I know. But she’s here, and she will tell us where she hid the data.”

“That remains to be seen…” Fury mused, Steve thinking him to have possibly even said that to himself, as when he now turned to face the Director he looked somewhat absent-minded as spent a great deal of time in simply staring at the woman held in the interrogation room. Urging now also Steve to shift his focus back to the Trafficker, his eyes trailing across the room to take in the woman who was indeed sitting by the table, which in addition to the chair she was seated on was the sole furniture within the space. Her however looking considerably better from last night when Steve had found her from Monroe’s hideout. Her wounds and other injuries now mended, her to have been given a chance to shower the blood and other filth off her and her damaged clothing had been replaced with a baggy pair of sweatpants and a shirt, some spares either found from somewhere or borrowed from some member of personnel. Her appearing quite rested and vigorous, only sign of her physical affliction being the in part rather gruesome bruising on her face now that she had no make-up to conceal the discoloring of her skin, the shadows under her eyes telling him her to be fatigued, although she had apparently managed to sleep after her rushed transport to Washington. Naturally her not knowing where she was specifically, but neither appearing at all worried about the fact of being held captive in a S.H.I.E.L.D facility. Her hair to have been casually tied up into a messy bun, while she sat in the chair in half slouched position, Steve then coming to think her not to really look like a dangerous felon, at least one the Director himself would have a need to come visit personally. Steve watching her to finally eye at the room around her thoughtfully until she raised a leg onto the seat, pressing her knee against the table’s edge as leant back, beginning to tap her fingers against it, finally presenting the men with a sign of a reaction but which was only of a mere boredom. After a few taps the sound soon causing Steve to think of a melody. Wanted he or not it soon starting to bother him that he couldn’t figure out which song it was, but Fury’s voice then cut off his train of thought. Ending his examination over the woman.

“I could’ve said the same about you, Captain. I didn’t expect to see you down here”, Fury said, Steve not either turning his eyes away from the Trafficker this time around as answered.

“I am only here to observe.”

“So I’m not the only one who came simply out of plain interest.”

“I’m not. Just want to know where the flash drive is.”

“For that you could’ve just gone home and waited for an official report…But if I saved someone’s life I would be curious of them too.”

Steve said nothing to that, inwardly thanking Agent Romanoff for seemingly spilling the beans about the mission down to the tiniest detail which included him saving the target from dying. Remaining silent nevertheless as quite frankly he didn’t have an answer, since he himself didn’t know why exactly had he come. He never took part in interrogating the targets he’d been tasked to bring in and neither had he ever been curious about beholding such questioning first hand, so his purpose of coming down there was not quite clear to him neither. After a while of not either saying anything Fury however then turning around, sliding something to Steve’s direction without a single word of explanation, and once he looked down at the object that now laid between them on the table he discovered it to be another folder. Fury starting to speak while Steve took it in his hand, eyeing at it at first before flipping it open, blinking at the photograph he instantly spotted on the first page and after skimming through the document the photo was attached to his gaze rose back to the woman behind the one way mirror in realization.

“She is curious. Just look at her, Captain… After such a long time spent in confinement even the most hardened criminals usually begin to pace the room like trapped beasts in cages or show some sign of discomfort, but she has barely moved…But I think we’ve let her marinate in the solitude long enough.”

“She doesn’t indeed seem all that anxious to me to tell us anything, sir”, Steve agreed, gauging at the woman again through the glass to determine the dominating state of her after interrupting his reading. However certain that in this particular occasion the usual seclusion and questioning tactic wouldn’t bear much fruit, taken her altogether serene appearance. The lack of any nervous twitches or wary glances cast about the naked room indicating her not to be in any way concerned over herself, despite of to have been kept in that room for hours all by herself in order to mellow her disinclination down. Fury knowing this as well and concurred with him, again studying the woman sitting at the opposite side of the window, where she obviously didn’t see them…but most likely knew someone to be there watching her.

“That’s why I doubt a few hours of more wait to have much of a difference...and we have to feed her too. Since we’re not _that_ kind of people.”

“Has anyone tried to talk to her before?”

“Lombart did. But you can only assume how that went taken how crossed he was while talking to you.”

The Trafficker allowed her eyes to roam about the white, bare room once more. To size it up and scale up and down the surrounding walls to determine the size of it for the umpteenth time to have at least something to do, since she’d hours ago ran out of things to think about to salvage her from utter tedium…It to have not come as a surprise to her to have been left on her own for the passed hours after the big shot’s failed attempt of extorting information out of her. Her taking brief amusement from the recollection of the S.H.I.E.L.D supervisor storming out of the room greatly aggravated, although she’d done nothing but put up a civilized conversation with him…Which however had apparently aggravated him to the point of having him slam the door shut after him so hard that even the bullet proof glass of the window shook due to the force of his exit, her having it hard time believing such a touchy individual to be working as one of the principal chiefs in charge at such a job, but then again…weren’t all leaders usually like that these days? Impatient, impulsive and haughty people who didn’t deserve the stature their position gave them?

Not giving that notion a second thought the woman now gazed at the window. Knowing full well she was being watched despite of her not seeing a thing through the glass, but her reflection staring back at her. Her to have perhaps never been in an actual interrogation room before, but she wasn’t even remotely stupid enough to believe there to be a need for a mirror in such a room…other than fooling those held inside to think there to be no one standing at the other side of that mirror, the one view window allowing her captors to continue to keep watch of her although no one had entered that room since the failed interrogation. Her to have made it clear to the man before he’d left, but despite of getting annoyed of being constantly stalked by the S.H.I.E.L.D Agents undoubtedly crowding the room beside hers, she soon enough ignored the window. Her full focus then drawn into remembering the melody that had been playing in her head for quite a while now, however swiftly growing bored of that too her fingers slammed onto the table with a dull clamor coming off from the metallic surface until she soon rose from her chair with a suave move. The speed pushing the chair back as she went around the table, going to stand behind it until after a brief moment dropped down, her arms receiving her weight but despite of the impact of the drop steadied her. Luscious feeling conquering her sense of fatigue as her muscles flexed when she lowered and then raised herself into a full push-up, the satisfactory feel of exercise distracting her momentarily from the complete quiet of the room. After a few presses the Trafficker securing her left arm behind her back with a near euphoric sigh when she could feel the tension of her body to be relieved at least partly, regardless of the smarting protest of some of her body parts thanks to the slight beating she’d gotten yesterday continuing on with one arm as concentrated on her breathing to forget about the pain in her bruised limbs. Her having time to do a series of fifteen push-ups with both arms and switch her workout into sit-ups until the hours of waiting ended, upon dropping back down her hearing the sound of opening door. Her lying on the floor as turned her head towards the entrance, to see a pair of black booted legs to emerge from behind the long lapels of a leather jacket as the comer turned towards the table. Her quirking a curious eyebrow at the sight of the arrived man’s lower torso as peered at him from under the table, it obstructing her view of his face, and she did hear his voice before actually seeing him.

“You’re a clever girl. Or handy more like, since being clever would require more imagination. But you certainly cannot be blamed for lack of effort”, Fury spoke up, ending the silence of the room as stayed beside the door for awhile. Not moving until he could hear the sound of the lock engaging, with a slow rise the woman coming to sight from behind the table to exchange her first gaze with Fury. However not standing like him, remaining seated on the floor as eyed at him in interest, giving the gruesome scars pushing from under the eye-patch but a fleeting look until she took the man fully in, visibly not any more impressed than she’d been once Lombart had entered the room. Steve, who was watching their confrontation giving the woman at least a little credit for not appearing even a little fazed by Fury’s presence, since usually majority of the prisoners bordered notably closer to willing cooperation after coming face to face with the Director before even made introductions…The man had that kind of an air about him that made the prisoners realize it to serve them not to keep quiet with a single grim look given over that interrogation table from him, although Steve for one had never found Fury that scary of a man…And apparently she didn’t either.

“Granted it was smart to a certain yardstick…to arrange a police raid in order to have your client arrested through official avenues and cause our team to be held at gunpoint amongst Monroe’s apprehended goons in the formed commotion, while you yourself were left free to make your escape. I do enjoy a bogey with actual ingenuity every now and then, but you could’ve gone farther with your plan…Just to impress me”, Fury continued, with a hint of smile, which however was far from genuine as took a few steps closer. The woman not saying anything to that as finally rose from the floor, gauging at the man, and coming to realize him to be far from an ordinary S.H.I.E.L.D Agent…By presence alone her being able to tell him to be even more important of a character than the man who’d first come to visit her.

“I admit that having your Agents cornered by the police was a pure chance…But instead wasting words in flattery, would you inform me of your reasons to pay me this first visit in hours? That’s the only thing I care about.”

“Caustic, are we? So you’re one of those girls”, Fury replied, coming to stand at the opposite side of the table, at least appearing to be amused, but she couldn’t tell was he really. With a curt inspection the man seeming like displaying a suitable visage on the outside to throw people off, but she could tell him to be a master of hiding his true intentions behind that carefully crafted mien he now wore…For this reason the woman giving him another quick look-over before responded.

“Only asking you to be blunt.”

“My name is Nicholas Fury. I am the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D…and I assume I need not to specify what kind of an organization we are and what we do, as by now you should be very much aware of that…Since you did steal sensitive information regarding us that in itself should’ve been most informative insight to our activities”, Director Fury continued, however upon introducing himself to the woman not claiming the second chair to sit on as she’d expected. The Trafficker considering his words for a while until did sit down herself, casually raising her other leg on the seat again as leveled a remarkable look up to the tall African American man.

“I’m not a thief, Director. Despite of this apparent misunderstanding it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but I’m a contractor. I have others to do the work for me. I just acquire and provide, for a payment. Simple as that”, she corrected, as a testament to her name also their organization had seemingly come to know her by.

“Indeed. And you could start correcting that misunderstanding by informing us of the identity of the person who requested you to obtain the data of our operations, and whom you hired to intercept our mission in Brazil to steal the data before forwarding it to you”, Fury answered, the woman in front of him angling her jaw in understanding as know finally knew why the man was here despite of the previous near casual chatter, even though there could be but one reason why any of these people wanted to have a word with her, and she knew it. However like before also knowing what was best for her own good her then only returning the Director’s stare, folding her arms across her chest as leant back.

“Do their identities truly matter? Neither of them is in possession of the data, and you must have more pressing targets in mind instead of wasting your time on them”, she said, Fury tilting his own head at her quizzically.

“Like you, perhaps?”

“You already got me. Not that it’s any good to you without the drive.”

“Agreed.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in concur upon hearing the woman’s comment, her indeed not seeming to be any more willing to talk even after getting introduced to the head of the organization currently keeping her captive. Short silence ticking by as neither of them said anything, the Trafficker simply matching Fury’s by this time more intense turned stare, but after a while of eyeing at the silent woman Fury raised his own jaw. To cast a cryptic look down at the woman who then turned a little confused by his curt, jaunty expression. The man however hiding his face from her by starting to walk around the room, passing her while speaking, leaving but his somewhat inauspicious voice to draw conclusions from until he had finished talking.

”It is rare for us to know close to nothing of our targets that are worthy of our attention and actual arrest, and the fact how careful you’ve been in keeping any revealing details pointing to your identity hidden is actually admirable, since no one usually is able to stay so clearly out of our radar as well as you have…But when nothing about you surfaced by the use of the usual avenues once your name was connected to the theft, convenient coincidence occurred”, Fury revealed, the woman having no reaction other than shifting her eyes to the direction to his voice, at least that much Steve was able to tell to whom she appeared still but collected and calm despite of Fury’s ominous bordered delivery.

“Once our team joined forces with the local police at Port Elizabeth to recover you from Monroe’s hideout, after his arrest one of the officers on the scene shed a helpful light on identifying you. Recognizing you…Certain senior officer named Horace. Thom Horace”, Fury told her, stopping to turn around in order to direct a poignant gaze at the woman, whom he then could notice to be listening intently despite of her appeared noninterest by the slight tilt of her head. Him walking to her side, the significant rise of the woman’s gaze telling him to have achieved exactly what he’d aimed at. Unwilling or not the mention of the name she knew all too well causing her to react exactly as he’d expected, for she truly seemed surprised about the officer’s name to surface in this discussion, although she did quickly bury her surprise under a stoic mien. Him continuing.

“He knew who you were. So after providing us with a name, we did resort to a lifeline…taking a sample of your blood and ran a search with it alone…and look what we found. Some old medical records…among other interesting documents carrying your name, which do explain your apparent affiliation with the African police, _Miss Kier_.”

At the sight of the slight jerk of her fingers the man stopped talking and now pointed at the folders on the table, encouraging the dubious woman to take the top one into her hand, and after a while she did. All about her this time around guarded as she couldn’t go telling whether the man was bluffing or not, but the mere mention of a blood sample taken from her not to mention the indisputable usage of her real name had already told her any need for pretense to be of no avail, since S.H.I.E.L.D had managed to acquire something tangible about her true self after all. Her needing not to even flip open the folder to oversee the mentioned medical records to know what to expect, her frowning slightly at the picture of her teenage self plastered onto a police report that accompanied the recount of the apparently existing medical records from her youth and childhood…Ones which she thought to have been lost years ago.

“Ilse Mae Kier, born in 1989 in Cape Town”, Fury begun, as if informing her of her own identity for the first time, the woman keeping her eyes glued to the folder as he resumed his walk around her and the table. Filling the ensued silence with his own summary of the presented records, some of the revealed facts about this woman even surprising Steve, who hadn’t taken such a close look of her info before. “Your unearthed medical history although limited state that you’ve been treated for a few occasions along the years, due to incidents that have been documented as appearing as cases of domestic violence or other minor scuffles, which coincide with the criminal record dating as far as your early teenage years. Charges that include some small-time crimes such as pilfering, vandalism, mild abuse and more heated altercations mainly connected to incidents with local gangs…drug use. Leading to you to have been taken into custody at the age of fourteen and decreed for detoxification…for a while. Not perhaps as impressive feat as what you’ve done in your later years, but all important in finding out the kind of girl you _really_ are.”

”What proves that this poor girl could possibly be me? That detective could’ve mistaken me to his woman due to physical similarities alone, and the blood sample…Labs get them mixed up all the while”, she asked, her humor feigned, testing the waters even though they both knew such a poor attempt at deception to be of no use now. Fury knowing exactly who she was, making him the sole person besides her family members who knew that much. The words he spoke now being mere theatre since the evidence was clear and all laid out in front of her, wanted she or not her now meeting with her past self she’d long ago forsaken through staring down at those documents.

“He very clearly stated to know you, intimately. And to support that, the medical records also state that you were in a terrifying accident when you were just four years old. A shark attack that according to the included police report occurred while you allegedly had been spending a day on the beach with your brothers and got attacked by a tiger shark, which left you disfigured with as the doctor writes ‘horrendous scarring to both upper torso and legs’...I hope I don’t have to resort to requesting an official statement from officer Horace to prove I’m right since all I’m been saying can be easily backed up by him it seems…As it states in the report it was him who was responsible of taking you to the hospital to be treated.”

The Trafficker, _Ilse_ sighed. Regrettably and most unexpectedly cornered and left with no further cover of anonymousness her locking serious gazes with Fury. And for the surprise of Steve she did then rise to her feet leisurely after just sitting silently for a while, trying to seem calm, but Steve could’ve noticed how her hands had begun to shake. Most likely due to the unpleasant and apparently downright frightful memory of the mentioned attack, as she then had pressed her eyes closed for a brief instant until fisted her fingers and drew her hands under the table on her lap, to hide them. Her knowing to have lost and having no reason to lie, because of this while facing the eye-patched man with the upper-hand raised the hem of her oversized t-shirt, indeed showing Fury the jagged, old scars which ran across her stomach and rose towards her chest. Still visible and shocking looking although much healed from the time she’d been a little girl, the woman raising her eyebrows in acknowledgment, where Steve was actually horrified by the sight. The knowledge of her to have gone through with such an incident in the mere age of a four and to have survived it alive only adding to his own horror, even if he wouldn’t have wanted him then feeling sympathy for the woman while added to what he’d just learned of her past previously…Even without further explaining knowing that there seemed to be much that could be blamed in pushing her towards the career she’d chosen to end up in that room today.

“They have greatly healed with the passed time, no? Not so ugly to look at.”

“Relieving. For I for one wouldn’t have chosen one of the most shark infested beaches to teach my little sister to swim at and hence deny her the chance to wear anything more revealing from overalls”, Fury replied, watching Ilse to drop the hem of the shirt with a huff that hadn’t been quite amused nor resentful as she sat back down, upon thinking back of the hard and more painful years behind her now desperately wishing for a cigarette. Her hands still trembling and upon holding back the harrowing, blurry images she had of the incident squeezed them together to control the quivering.

“My brothers have never been the loving type.”

“I see. At least they saved you.”

“Who said I was saved by them?”

“Then you shouldn’t have any reason to feel obligated to protect them.”

Another silence filled the space as Ilse thought about what Fury had just said, but nothing that in that fleeting moment was displayed on her face didn’t reveal did she quite agree or not to that…Only that whatever she was thinking, it brought great conflict to her, after a long while mulling over it her only gazing away. Looking cryptic herself.

”Nor enough to betray them.”

“Them perhaps not…But your partner in crime, the one who aided your escape from Monroe’s club last night…Are they deserving of your protection? Since for what I hear they didn’t show such solidarity towards you.”

Ilse simply stared at Fury at the sound of that statement, question however written all over her face as the man came to another halt, confronting her.

“Don’t you find it odd how Monroe got hold of you even when our Agents didn’t?” Fury questioned knowingly, Ilse scoffing through her nose at that. Adding a hint of feigned drama in her voice at the end as shrugged.

“I don’t. Monroe mentioned a whistleblower…That was unexpected.”

“How about the fact that the said whistleblower was meant to make sure you escape rather than ensuring you getting caught by him? Port Elizabeth police were considerate enough to let one of our Agents have a word with Monroe, and he informed someone to have called him right after you’d fled…and revealed your exact location.”

Ilse was truly surprised by this, but not about someone to have betrayed her, but due to _who_ had been the caller. It being now but obvious as she thought about it after thinking over that Fury had just told her, her finding it downright funny how she hadn’t come to think of it back in Monroe’s lair when he’d mentioned the mysterious caller who’d seemed to know her intimately enough to reveal her fear of water to the armsdealer, instructing him to use it in torturing her…Anger flaring in her as she shook her head in realization, scoffing again, but this time out of mere disdain as she thought about the fucker…Her not being able to imagine a reason why he’d decided to rat her out on Monroe other than being an asshole, as it had been him who’d walked free with all the stolen money, although out of countless jagoffs she was closely affiliated with she wouldn’t have expected such a shitty move from him in particular.

“That bastard”, she snapped quietly, still not quite believing it, but then swiftly admitting to herself the guy to have grown up surrounded by shitheads who were comfortable of doing much worse than that, so perhaps she shouldn’t be taken aback someone to have probably ordered him to throw her to the wolves…Because despite of her hatred she knew him to have not done that fully on his own initiative…for in such case he would’ve bailed out on her long before saving her form getting caught by Tony Stark. The minute he got hold of the money.

“In addition to double-crossing you, he came close harming one of my operatives…So to show you have a heart, tell me who he is…Just to make yourself feel better.”

Ilse was silent again, although the anger Fury could see to have hardened her eyes told her to know the man in question, closely so, but she only refused to reveal his identity despite of the just learned truth of him to have had no qualms in turning her over to Monroe. This in itself informing Fury of something else and against her intentions her earnest features spoke volumes to the man, him now leaning against the table as peered at the woman. Managing to lure her to look up to him with his following insightful remark, but this time around her blank face didn’t offer a replyof any kind to him.

“So family then?”

The woman simply pulled her chair closer, quiet as this time crossed her legs on the seat, inclining her head at the man’s inquisitive remark as set her arms on the table. Returning back to her quiet self, all signs of severity gone, besides her eyes that remained grim as she gazed back at the Director. Breaking the silence after a long while, but not with a response Fury had desired.

“For a cigarette I could consider telling whether or not he is.”

Naturally Fury only stared back at her, and upon to have not expected anything else, the woman smiled at the man’s severe visage. Giving him a wondering look back, but which curtly turned apologetic…Supposedly so, as she clearly was entertaining herself with playing into the tropes of interrogation commonly seen in movies. Acting dumb, although she most definitely wasn’t.

“Now that I think about it…I don’t seem to recall his name.”

“How about this then…” Fury replied, if he was beginning to turn impatient like his colleague before had not showing it, straightening to his full height again as narrowed his eyes just slightly at Ilse. “Since I’m not particularly interested in your family at present, I allow you to keep their along with your partner’s identities hidden…if you reveal the name of the individual who stole the data and tell me where to find the real drive.”

“I wish I could. But that would be bad for business”, Ilse retorted with a hardly amused hint of a smile, turning serious again as turned her eyes upward. Not looking at Fury as kept her eyes directed to the ceiling, almost looking like ignoring the man fully, and his following reply didn’t seem to faze her in any way, as regardless of their definitive nature she already knew her previous comment to have been but display of defiance.

“Given that you will ever be released again to pick up that business, that is.”

Ilse didn’t react to that, spending the following moment occupied with her own thoughts. After watching her then to bring a fleeting hand to gently press on her injured cheek and watching her to free her hair from the bun, Fury deciding to change his approach.

“Some months ago there was this man who’d gotten their hands on an experimental formula….one that in a small scale could allegedly mimic nuclear fusion, and while utilized in technology could produce small discharges of energy within the device or system, multiplying their wattage or power, increasing their general use. An invention which not in itself was dubious and conversely highly aspired to be realized in the scientific circles, but which creator was murdered, and the formula had been in the wind until it suddenly resurfaced when a man we’d been kept a close eye on was trying to acquire it under-the- counter through some alarming avenues…But not our noses, unfortunately. Anthony Kendall, well merited businessman and main stakeholder in a energy company that has committed the last few years in arduous study of a sustainable fusion. Not particularly noteworthy man, but who’d gained our interest thanks to his recent, ostentatious connections with some other persons of our much greater interest, and who we’d uncovered to have had shown similar interest in acquiring the formula for their own much less agreeable use…People you’ve been linked to do business with, Miss Kier.”

“It wasn’t me. By what I heard the thief had been hired by Kendall to steal the formula, but got greedy and already made their profit by releasing the formula to the black market to have it sold for more than he’d been promised by his employer….by the time I got hold of it”, Ilse corrected, earning herself a concurring nod from Fury.

“Yes, so we found out...And after we lost track of it, it was you who sold it to Kendall with twice the profit.”

“He was one of my clients.”

“Luckily we intercepted the transport once Kendall tried to smuggle the formula overseas and recovered it before it changed owner…But Kendall was not quite so fortunate.”

Ilse studied Fury curiously as he then looked more severe again as he faced her, his eyes not averting from hers then as he continued.

“After he discovered us to have gotten a wind of his plans he went underground…Only to turn up dead two days later. Most likely killed by his associate he’d failed to provide the formula for.”

“If you are implying that to have had something to do with me, you couldn’t be more wrong”, Ilse answered, now more sharply as indeed realized what Director Fury seemed to be after, matching the man’s stare as he stopped beside her to cast a studying look down at her in turn. “I got my money from him and had no further need for the formula, so I washed my hands from all that long before he turned up dead. And besides…Since you seem to know at least something about me and my work, you should also know that I don’t hurt people. I don’t claim myself to be even remotely good, but even if my way of life has me dealing with dangerous, precarious individuals you’re so keen on capturing, whatever the means I’ve never killed anyone to acquire something. Despite of the nature of my clientele _I’m_ not my clients.”

“Getting defensive? So you’d regard yourself better than them?”

“Of course not. Just less precarious.”

“And still you’ve insisted on making profit in fostering the world’s malevolence.”

This statement took the woman aback, her not quite following what Fury had meant by that, and she followed him with her gaze as the man then kept on walking. Stopping briefly by the wall as turned his back to her, taking a break.

“Last month you were contacted by another client. Client who employed you to acquire him a certain chemical mixture that is hard to come by even in the common market.”

The uncut pause in his speech that then ensued informed Fury the woman to agree, since his somber become delivery had signaled her a darker shift in the man’s mood, turning her careful, and therefore more disinclined to answer until she was let in on the purpose for the current topic at hand. Fury taking another, remarkable break until he turned back around and walked over to the table, meeting with Ilse’s equally tense eyes as he finally ended the somewhat oppressive grown silence.

“The chemicals you acquired for your client were used to develop a bomb. A bomb that was used to blow up half of a small town in Syria in a hit against an American embassy by a jihadist group, purchased from a notorious arms dealer Ulysses Klaue. Business partner and a former mentor of Simeon Monroe, the man you tried to swindle last night. I can only imagine why, since South African gangland seems to have become much smaller place since the last time I had a run in with it”, Fury revealed, by that passing shift in expression on the woman’s face knowing her to have recognized the said name and most definitely know him by reputation at least, the shock that then followed the intake of his revelation causing Ilse’s composed visage to crack and give room to disbelief once Fury continued. Further dismaying her as he then pointed at the second folder on the table, urging her to take it, and so she did.

“I figured his name would ring a bell to you taken your circle of acquaintances…But according to what you said, Miss Kier…You may have sold the chemicals to a client of your own choosing, but they went on delivering the goods to Klaue, who for one sold them forward to the terrorists. So you may regard yourself as someone who doesn’t dirty their hands and keeps away from the actual wrongdoings including real bloodshed, but what happened to all those civilians…is fully on you. And here we have some pictures to testify to that. I brought them so that you could see on first-hand what sentient disregard of the consequences of one’s actions look like…”

Fury went silent as he then observed the woman to open the folder, the shocking images of a blown up city and dismembered civilians lying in heaps amongst the ruins of the befallen decimation of the terrorist attack that purposefully had been placed first within the folder causing the woman to freeze as her eyes latched onto the first picture. With knitted eyebrows her slowly raising a hand to fan the images over the table in front of her, her now visibly less impassive eyes taking in the documented misery, softened by clear compassion as she studied the photos of bloodied people buried under the collapsed buildings. Those injured and spared from the explosion running around in terror amongst the fires that had engulfed the vicinity of the hit embassy, all the nearby cars and houses also burning within quarter of a mile radius from the scene of the attack as shown by an aerial image taken after the explosion. Steve seeing the same as bewildered himself by the revelation he had reclaimed his own copy of the woman’s folder and was now leafing through it, finding the sheets detailing the terrorist attack to which she’d been linked through Klaue, him giving the stomach-turning images a disgusted look-over before his own hardened eyes rose back up to study the woman.

So it had been her who had provided the terrorists with the materials to build that bomb which had killed dozens of civilians in Syria by selling the chemicals to a client who’d been obviously been working for Klaue as his own contractor…? Despite of realizing it to have not been her actions that had directly led to the bombing, Steve however still not being able to shake off the contempt that begun to overshadow his reason as he now stared at the woman. Overwrought by her apparent involvement in the bombing and the general cruelty of this world he’d been dropped into Steve putting away the folder, not bearing to look at the horrible images any further. In similar sentiments Ilse blinking at the pictures in denial, the bleak truth of them along with the terrifying calamity they displayed causing her stomach to knot as Fury ended the silence again, his voice that a moment ago had close to risen into booming in his surfaced anger now notably calmer, but which wasn’t to be mistaken as compassionate while still holding that biting edge.

“By the look on your face I assume that isn’t what you wanted nor imagined to happen. But it did. Now, and who knows how many times after you have gone your way selling your produce to shady characters such as Klaue, directly or secondhand, it makes no difference. We are all responsible of our actions, and deep down you must’ve been aware of that…hence trying to appease your sense of quilt by trying to dispose of people like Monroe.”

“And that’s why I’m here? To be responsible by answering for my crimes to S.H.I.E.L.D? Your dear Captain should’ve just left me in that tank since by the look of these photos I’m not any different from any other bogey wreaking havoc on your turf”, was Ilse’s response, terse and emotionless one, but despite of her achievement of wiping away that visible horror from her mien Steve could tell by her eyes her to have been shaken by those photos. ..More than she probably even admitted to herself by the look of her attempt to seem impassive, or than Steve was willing to believe after finding out her to have acquired the chemicals to the jihadists through a couple of middlemen…But he could see her to regret it, despite of what she tried to allege with her current guarded conduct.

“No, Miss Kier. You are here to familiarize yourself with your conscious. Which I see has already begun”, Fury said, after a brief exchange of remarkable gazes with the now baffled woman him then pointing at a thin pile of papers at the bottom of the folder, separated with a paper clip and a folder of their own from the rest of the documents. Continuing as Ilse pulled out the stack, honestly stunned by what she then saw as she flipped the folder open and read the contents of the first page, now finally giving the pen which purpose she only could have gone guessing till now an incredulous, close to amused look.

”Regardless of the world not knowing your real name, you are a very popular person amongst notable higher ups thanks to your bustling business. Everyone wants a piece of you… CIA, FBI and Justice Department in the States alone for quite a colorful resumé; Distribution and Acquisition of Black Market Weapons, Espionage, Sedition, Civil Disorder, Unauthorized Disclosure of Classified Information and as lastly mentioned, Supporting Terrorism by having connections to a radical group through commerce with the said group among others…And I’m not even going to go listing all the other parties you’ve managed to cross along the years while operating globally, not to mention the criminal dealings of your family who you’ve obviously taken upon during your freelance career…Agreed some of these are mere overkill, but despite of perhaps not all of these counts being valid, in search of justice I could however take my pick and hand you over to whoever I’d see most deserving of having you in their custody…But if I wasn’t here to offer you alternative option to redeem yourself, you’d already be rotting in jail or whisked off to some unknown black site for a much less friendly conversation”, Fury announced, earning himself a bemused look back from the woman who stared at him for a moment in honest confusion, her reaction also baffling Steve as well as he didn’t know what was in that folder Fury had just presented her with.

“Due to your interesting clientele and experience in your field of work, you are in possession of an access to a network unlike S.H.I.E.L.D can even speculate, but from which we could greatly benefit from. So in exchange of not being tried and sentenced accordingly by the numerous charges made against you up to the International Court of Justice, we are willing to let you walk free from all that…If you’ll make yourself useful to us. Just like you, the criminal organ within your family has been operating has and still remains mostly unknown to us as do the scope of their activities, and for the common good we’d like to keep more closer tabs on them. Just to be sure”, Fury explained, Ilse this time squinting at him in outright disagreement, putting away the folder and the contract of employment the man had had the guts to apparently prepare for her to sign…Which was but unbelievable taken the nature of their previous discussion and him almost accusing her of being guilty to an act of terrorism herself.

“You mean to say you want to make a snitch out of me?” she accosted, astounded, Fury tipping his head at her in concur, Steve frowning at his words aghast.

“In a way. We make sure you stay out of prison, and you in return shall offer us your knowledge and time, aiding us in our work of eliminating worldwide threats and making the world a better place that could be summed up into one sentence; as said, reconnecting with your conscious.”

“Even if all what you’re assuming of me is true, why do you think I’d tell you anything? Especially about my family.”

“Because you don’t want to go to jail. Because the moment I saw that look on your face when you looked at those photos, that reaction some people would call quilt, I knew that whatever it is that is deep within you is worth the gamble in mind of recruiting you. That existing desire to be good, which made you react like any other decent human being. And when it comes to your family, Miss Kier…I believe there was a reason that made you leave them all those years ago and has had you working against them ever since”, Fury answered, exchanging a matter-of-fact look with the woman. “I can imagine you to continue to feel obligated to stay quiet about them and their business as they are your blood, but the truth is that according to my sources during your absence from their ranks some of your actions have been aimed in making their lives more difficult…And we can help you in that. If you just sign that paper…And assign your services to S.H.I.E.L.D and commit yourself to become our ally in eradicating the kind of individuals you’ve already showed mind of putting away with…Men like Monroe and Klaue. So all you need to do to prove yourself above the reputation the world has branded you with and become a better person…is sign.”

“Poetic. But if changing one’s character was that simple, there’d be no need for you…But to come up with such a proposal, and yet you’re not even here…For me to sign anything I’d require at least that much discretion of you standing in this room while making such life altering offer”, Ilse retorted, for the following surprise of both Steve and Fury her abruptly snatching the pen from the table and throwing it straight at Fury. The pen flying straight through him and landing to the floor, rolling all the way to the door as the woman directed a slight annoyed leer at the holographic image of Fury that flickered a little before stabilizing again, Ilse inclining her head at the sight with a raise of her brows. She’d spotted something to have been odd with the man not long after he’d entered the room, soon noticing the man to have no shadow while leant over the table, and the lacking sound of his footsteps had been the definitive proof of him not truly being there. Surprised Steve turning towards Fury and saw him break into a small smile after she’d unmasked their little ruse, but which he’d viewed more like a test…Tipping an acknowledging head at the woman whose focus had shifted from his fake image to the surface of the table she was currently drawing circles on.

“She has a keen eye”, Fury noted, exchanging a glance with Steve before without further ado entered the interrogation room. Ilse’s eyes rising up to him to see now his real, tangible self this time step through the opened door. Following the man to pick up the pen from the floor before she then observed him to dig something out of his pocket upon approaching her, and Steve blinked in surprise at the sight of actual pack of cigarettes that Fury now slid over to the woman along with a lighter across the table. Him to have not known Director to smoke, but now proven correct he watched as with a pleased rise of her eyebrows swiftly Ilse snatched the pack and shook out a cigarette, with accustomed fingers lighting it and after a deep inhale he watched her blow out the smoke with a deep, content, audible sigh. Her leaning back in her chair as enjoyed the sensation of tobacco smoke at last filling her lungs in response to her demanding craving that had plagued her for hours, quelling it as the foul but still beyond addictive taste spread in her mouth. Ilse letting her head tilt back in satisfaction after an eternity of battling with her thirst for a fag, in a moment lowering her head just enough to level a grateful look at Fury, until her countenance was but serious again. Her eyeing at Fury honestly curious, as the man’s presented offer was beyond confusing...Not to mention senseless.

“That reputation you speak of…It’s closer to the truth than slander, Director. So why are you so sure it all can be forgotten by offering this deal to me, making it worth your belief in an amendment of a mere thief?” she queried, watching intently as Fury this time around finally joined her by the table, but instead of occupying the chair across from her, he took a seat by the table’s edge. After a short silence taking the cigarette from her, during his delivery giving it a thoughtful look until eventually took a slight inhale from the cigarette, at the end of his speech handing it back to her astounded self.

“Because I believe, Miss Kier, that you are the kind of person to be able to join our cause…and make it yours, eventually. I have an eye for spotting that kind of qualification in people…And if I needed a mere thief, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of bringing you here. I’ll leave you to think about my offer.”

Ilse received the cigarette back from the Director with a wondering blink, giving the man a calculating look as then watched him stand after his hand had furtively pushed the contract of employment closer to her. As suddenly as he’d entered now leaving, but just before he reached the door again and Ilse could try to get to the bottom of this puzzling man’s way of thinking, Fury stopped. Turning back around to level another of those formidable looks to her way which assuming by their so far acquaintance seemed to be his forte.

“Oh, and Miss Kier…I’ll be needing that data back. One way or another.”

“And if it’s the other?” Ilse asked, knowingly pushing her luck for the sake of tantalizing the man as tipped an amused head at him…Despite of responding to her remark with similar ease as before Fury now only returning her gaze sternly, his steel hard eyes riveting to her.

“Then perhaps CIA black site might turn out a more pleasant place to have this chat in.”

“Threatening? You really think she’ll tell us where the drive is by threatening her?” Steve asked skeptically once Fury exited the interrogation room, exchanging a look with the Director who then reclaimed his spot by his side. Them both resuming their earlier observation of the woman, Steve watching her to actually cast thoughtful eyes down at the contract in front of her, going through the contents over and over again…in given hesitation he imagined.

“I was simply taunting her. And it’s not a threat that will affect her but something else as effective…Because despite of her being good at controlling her emotions for the most part, our conversation did give her something to think over in earnest”, Fury replied, Steve now also giving the man’s apparent plans a serious thought over himself before he confronted Fury. This time around his eyebrows creasing in utmost disbelief as he eyed at the man, feeling himself even disgruntled once he came to realize the absurdity of Fury’s actions, deciding to hold him accountable for them in a form of his following opposing response.

“But still, to ask her to join S.H.I.E.L.D…What purpose would that serve? It is people like her we aspire to keep in check every day.”

“You’d be surprised what a group of shunned renegades can do for a cause greater than their convenience.”

“Or for simple fear of ending up imprisoned.”

“Didn’t you say to believe common threats not to sway her?”

As Steve said nothing to that, simply keeping on staring back at Fury in that silent protest, Fury then tilted his head in surrender, but nothing about him signaled him to agree with Steve. The man to have already made up his mind, and no matter what Steve would come to say would do nothing to have the Director see eye to eye with him in this matter…Although it was utterly out of Steve hands, as he very well knew.

“You’re right, Captain. I was threatening her…But only to plant the worm in the hook. It’s up to her whether she’ll swallow the bait or not now that it dangles right in front of her”, Fury said, earning himself reserved frown from Steve.

“She belongs in prison, Fury.”

“If asked from right individuals, they’d probably same the same about you”, Fury mused, in truth taking Steve aback, but despite of his initial dissent the more he heard Fury then say he partly found himself beginning to agree with him...Wanted he or not because of that understanding what Fury was after with this ridiculous decision of even entertaining an idea of recruiting that woman. “To most of the world you’re the pinnacle of a hero…But to others just a common criminal vigilante backed up by a powerful organization such as us taking the justice to your own hands…But just like you, she may be a lot more than all the charges made against her dictate….For we’re no saints ourselves, Captain.”

Givenly contemplative Steve watched Fury then to leave the room, the Director making his final exit and leaving the Captain to further observe the locked up woman. In whole new ponders Steve considering Fury’s previous remark as followed the woman by the name of Ilse Kier to now drop the contract with a deep, incredulous sigh. Her putting out the cigarette onto the writing pad as flipped the pen between her fingers, upon following her to take another cigarette out of the package and slip it between her lips all of a sudden Steve having a realization and remembering the name of the song that had been pestering him ever since the woman had reminded him of it… _In the Mood_ by Glenn Miller.


End file.
